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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive  - 
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V 


THE 


r  > 

•  AC 

Si 


NIGHT  WATCH; 

OR, 


SOCIAL  Lip  IN  THE  SOUTH 

BY  SOMEBODY. 


"Through  all  disguise,  form,  place,  or  name, 
Beneath  the  flaunting  robe  of  sin, 
Through  poverty,  and  squalid  shame, 
Thou  lookest  on  the  man  within." 


* 


CINCINNATI: 
MOOKE,   WILSTACH,   KEYS  &  CO. 

25  WEST  FOURTH  STREET. 
1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 

C.  0.  HOFFMAN, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern 

District  of  Ohio., 


i 


Stereotyped  and  Printed  by 
MOORE,  WILSTACH,  KEYS  &  CO. 


CONTENTS. 


PAfiB. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Close  Quarters   7 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Parvenue  Patroness   13 

CHAPTER  III. 
Household  Cares   23 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Milliner's  Shop   30 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  little  Scotch  Woman   40 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Heart  Revealings  and  the  True  Friend   4.6 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Scenes  in  the  Sanctuary   53 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Dinner  Party   59 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Divers  Scenes  in  Sundry  Places   70 

CHAPTER  X. 
Nature's  Nobleman   83 


(iii) 


iV  CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Journal   90 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  Domestic  Scene  in  High  Life  ....  101 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  Young  Raven  Fed   115 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Siren   124 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Jew  Peddler   135 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Neophyte  Actor   147 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Lover  —  Soul  Phases   159 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Lady  and  the  Toady   174 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Miser's  Home   184 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Courteous  Manager   194 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
The  Ambush   199 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Fall   210 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Courtship   214 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Old  Jew's  Family   223 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
The  Good  Wife   230 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
The  Governor's  Levee   241 

*- 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
The  Masque   264 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
The  Forgeries   273 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Letter   283 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
The  Wedding   301 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
The  Elopement  Discovered   324 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
The  Chamber  of  Death   331 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
The  Marriage   341 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
The  Happy  Home   345 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
The  Journal  —  The  Far  Past  Recalled  ,   359 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
The  Journal  — A  Gift  374 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
The  Journal  —  An  Intriguante   391 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
The  Journal  —  A  Stunning  Announcement  ,   408 


vi 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
The  Journal  — The  Return   425 

CHAPTER  XL. 
The  Journal — Paradise  and  Purgatory   440 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
The  Journal  —  The  Maniac  Mother   457 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
The  Journal  —  Old  Friends  and  Foes   469 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
Conscience,  the  Oracle  of  God     480 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
Retribution,  or  the  Maniac  Husband   488 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
The  Happy  Family   503 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
The  Jewess   512 

CHAPTER  XLVH. 
The  Conclusion   520 


THE  NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CLOSE  QUARTERS. 

"  Have  pity  on  them,  for  their  life 

Is  full  of  grief  and  care ; 
You  do  not  know  one  half  the  woes 

The  very  poor  must  bear ; 
You  do  not  see  the  silent  tears 

By  many  a  mother  shed, 
As  childhood  offers  up  the  prayer, 

1  Give  us  our  daily  bread/  " 

In  one  of  the  large  towns  in  the  South,  in  a  street  not 
very  remote  from  the  central  and  business  portion  of  the 
place,  there  are  still  standing  two  or  three  mean -looking, 
dilapidated,  gloomy  hovels.  I  know  not  why  these  are 
left  there  to  cumber  the  earth,  and  to  mar  the  general  pros- 
pect, amid  the  neighboring  tenements  which  present  a 
new,  clean,  thrifty  appearance,  unless  it  be  that  it  is  prop- 
erty entailed;  which  is  doubtless  the  case.  The  partic- 
ular house  before  which  we  would  now  conduct  our 
readers,  presents  a  front  of  about  eighteen  feet  of  old, 
moldy  boards,  with  a  jutting,  blackened  roof.  One  small 
window  has  sidled  off  to  the  left,  as  if  weary  of  standing 
up  so  straight ;  or  may  be,  like  the  door,  it  has  grown 
feeble  by  the  weight  of  so  many  years,  and  is  trying  to 
find  something  to  lean  upon.  The  walls,  as  well  as  the 
window  sills  and  door  lintels,  have  had  a  rough  coat  of 
white-wash  and  coarse  green  paint  administered  to  them 

(vii) 


3 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH, 


recently,  which,  by-the-by,  only  makes  one  think  of  the 
utter  futility  of  trying  to  make  old,  worn-out  things  look 
fresh  and  new. 

Such  was  the  exterior  of  this  dwelling.  Now  let  us 
take  a  survey  of  the  interior.  There  is  neither  hall  nor  cor- 
ridor ;  the  old,  creaking  door  opens  into  the  one  best  room, 
which  is  made  to  serve  as  parlor,  dining  room,  bedroom, 
and  sometimes  kitchen.  As  I  said  before,  it  is  lighted  by 
only  one  narrow  window,  looking  out  on  the  street.  The 
whole  place  gives  evidence  of  extreme  indigence,  but 
everything  is  forced  up  to  its  highest  point  of  usefulness, 
and  made  to  show  to  the  best  advantage.  The  little  old 
patched  up  table,  and  broken  work  stand,  are  polished 
and  made  decent  by  frequent  brushings  and  furbishings. 
The  few  aged  and  worn  rush-bottom  chairs  bear  marks  of 
the  same  careful,  pains-taking  hand.  A  small,  single  bed 
in  each  corner  of  the  room  fills  one  broad  side,  while  on 
the  other  stands  an  old  cupboard  in  solitary  grandeur,  con- 
taining articles  of , Jhousehold  use.  Another  little,  low, 
rickety  door  opens  out  on  a  shed,  which  has  been  turned 
into  a  stall  by  the  present  occupants.  In  this  place  stands 
a  small  cooking-stove,  where  their  meager  meals  are 
prepared. 

The  inmates  of  the  house  are  an  old  lady,  her  grand- 
daughter, and  great  grandson.  The  grandmother  seems 
to  be  the  active  agent  and  presiding  genius  of  the  place. 
She  is  dressed  in  a  cheap  calico  wrapper.  A  plain  mus- 
lin cap,  much  darned,  and  a  neat  white  handkerchief  is 
pinned  transversely  over  her  bosom.  She  looks  to  be  in 
good  health,  although  a  cripple.  She  is  at  this  moment 
sitting  in  an  old  armchair,  which  is  minus  an  arm,  patched 
up  and  mended  from  top  to  bottom.  She  is  looking 
moody,  but  not  positively  dissatisfied  or  disconsolate,  as 
she  rocks  herself  sometimes  violently,  then  more  delibe- 
rately, and  finally  subsides  into  a  gentle  undulating  mo- 
tion, as  her  feelings  and  memories  prompt. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  9 

The  granddaughter,  who  is  young  and  beautiful,  ap- 
pears to  be  unhappy.  She  is  sitting  in  a  low  chair,  quite 
still,  her  arms  hanging  down  listlessly  by  her  side,  gazing 
vacantly  into  the  fire.  She,  unlike  her  grandmother,  is 
attired  carelessly,  and  in  a  dress  which  was  once  costly, 
handsome  and  rich,  but  is  now  faded  and  worn  in  many 
places,  and  if  not  ragged,  we  must  thank  the  same  poor 
old  lady  who,  with  her  natural  thrift,  with  spectacles  on 
nose,  has  plied  the  needle  in  many  places.  Meantime  she 
sits  there,  alternately  looking  at  her  daughter  and  the 
fire. 

"  Well  now !  there  you  are,  like  the  old  gray  cat  in  the 
corner  ;  one  about  as  much  use  as  the  other.  I  say,  Myra, 
what  good  will  it  do  to  sit  there  moping  and  gazing  into 
the  old  rusty  grate  ?  It  will  not  put  coals  into  it.  I  say, 
don't  you  hear,  child?  "  and  she  placed  her  lips  in  such 
close  proximity  to  the  lady,  whom  she  called  Myra,  that 
she  touched  her,  while  she  shouted  the  last  words  into  her 
ear.  The  granddaughter  started  so  violently  as  almost  to 
upset  her.  The  old  lady  seemed  to  be  vexed,  as  she  with 
difficulty  recovered  her  equilibrium,  exclaiming,  "  Now  is 
not  this  too  bad?  You  had  better  knock  me  down  at 
once,  then  I  would  know  exactly  how  I  stand  in  the  house. " 
Myra  looked  at  her  imploringly,  and  bending  on  her  those 
glorious  eyes,  filled  as  they  now  were  with  a  soft  and  hu- 
mid light,  said, 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  do  most  humbly  ask  your  pardon.  I 
would  not  have  been  guilty  of  such  rudeness,  especially  to 
you,  for  the  world.  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me,  dear 
grandmamma." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  overlook  this,  as  I  do  every- 
thing else,  but  I  can  not  permit  you  to  sit  there  forever- 
more  in  that  way.  You  must  learn  to  exert  yourself, 
child.  True,  you  have  been  treated  badly  :  I  know  all 
that.  But  see,  God  has  left  you  all  your  faculties,  and 
you  have  health  and  strength  to  work,  if  not  in  one  way, 


10 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


then  in  another.  How  can  you  sit  there  mewed  up,  sigh- 
ing and  groaning,  when  there  are  no  provisions  in  the 
house,  no  coal  in  the  cellar,  no  wood  in  the  yard,  and 
scarce  a  change  of  clothing,  even  for  the  child,  of  the 
coarsest  kind  ?  I  tell  you  it  will  not  do.  Think  you, 
because  God  sees  fit  to  withdraw  some  of  his  blessings, 
after  having  permitted  you  to  enjoy  so  many  of  his  good 
things,  to  be  nurtured  delicately,  and  fondled  in  the  lap 
of  luxury,  he  will  now  excuse  you  for  not  improving  the 
talent  which  is  left?  Come,  rouse  up  ;  unfold  the  napkin 
which  conceals  thy  talent,  and  be  doing,  lest  thou  be 
brought  to  judgment." 

"  Oh  !  God,  pity  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  with 
such  a  heart-broken  tone  and  despairing  look,  that  even 
the  stern  old  lady  appeared  softened. 

"  Well,  child,  I'm  sorry  that  I  have  to  scold  so  much, 
but  I  must  stick  to  the  text,  1  there  is  no  use  in  sighing 
and  groaning  over  spilt  milk  ! '  " 

"  Dear  grandma,  spare  me  this  one  time.  I  have  done 
what  I  could.  It  does  seem  to  me  all  that  I  could  yet 
awhile.  I  have  complied  with  the  requisitions  of  our  pit- 
iless landlord,  and  in  order  to  secure  to  him  the  miserable 
pittance  w^e  owe  him  for  the  rent  of  this  'palace,'  I  have 
consented  to  have  myself  put  over  the  door  as  fashionable 
dress-maker  from  New  York.  Oh,  Lord  !  I  pray  thee 
forgive  me  all  the  falsehoods  and  subterfuges  which  I  am 
now  compelled  to  practice." 

Then  she  folded  her  arms  and  resumed  her  despairing 
look  and  attitude,  gazing,  as  was  her  constant  habit,  into 
the  fire.  The  old  lady  seemed  to  think  she  must  follow 
up  the  subject,  and  avail  herself  of  the  little  advantage 
gained;  for  it  was  a  point  achieved  to  get  poor  Myra  even 
to  listen.  To  hear  and  heed,  with  a  reply  or  remark,  not 
wholly  irrelevant  to  the  subject  in  hand,  were  events  now 
of  rare  occurrence.  She  therefore  again  essayed  to  rouse 
her  granddaughter  from  her  lethargic  mood. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  11 

•  "But  my  daughter,  I  do  not  see  why  you  have  done 
this  ?  I  did  not  desire  that  you  should  thus  humble  your 
proud  spirit  so  much,  all  at  once.  I  did  not  intend  that 
you  should  stoop  so  low  as  to  become  a  thing  to  be  ordered 
about,  insulted,  and  brow-beaten,  by  the  insolent,  purse- 
proud  mushrooms,  and  miserable  parvenues  of  this 
overgrown  city.  It  is  not  thus  I  would  have  you  exert 
yourself,  my  dear.  Why  not  make  your  fine  accomplish- 
ments available?  Music,  French,  drawing,  etc?  There 
is  nothing  mortifying,  degrading  or  ignoble  in  these  pur- 
suits.- You  only  establish  your  superiority  over  the  mass : 
and  while  your  own  mental  faculties  are  maturing,  you 
are  doing  something  toward  elevating  the  better  portion 
of  the  animal.  But  in  this  vile  employment  you  can  only 
minister  to  the  vanity  and  self-loye  of  a  parcel  of  haughty 
women,  heartless  butterflies,  who  will  presently  treat  you 
with  impertinence  and  contumely.  In  short,  dear  child, 
poor  and  miserable  as  we  are  made  by  poverty,  and  the 
cruelty  of  man;  neglected,  deserted,  unknown,  and  un- 
happy; still  I  am  unwilling  that  you  should  expend 
your  time,  and  exhaust  your  strength  in  adorning  the 
bodies  of  those  worms,  —  in  fitting  the  caterpillar  to  fly. 
I  will  not  have  it  so." 

"Now,  my  dear  grandmother,  everything  but  our 
wretchedness  here  (looking  around  on  the  bare  walls  and 
floor),  and  that  your  child  is  educated,  ana  perhaps  a 
little  more  gifted  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  some  others 
(which  in  our  peculiar  situation  I  deem  a  great  misfor- 
tune), has  escaped  you.  Have  you  forgotten  the  crowning 
sorrow  of  my  life  ?  Have  you  ceased  to  remember  the 
cause  of  our  leaving  home,  and  fleeing  as  for  our  lives,  to 
this  remote  place,  where  I  desire  to  shun  all  associates  ? 
Have  you  ?  Oh  yes  !  you  do  seem  to  have  forgotten  ail, 
while  I  never  do !  Waking  or  sleeping,  it  is  always  the 
same.  Memory,  with  me,  is  *  The  worm  which  never 
dieth.'  " 


12  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

She  wrung  her  hands,  and  writhed,  as  if  undergoing  the 
intensest  agony  of  spirit,  while  her  fine  form,  and  beau- 
tiful features  jerked  with  a  spasmodic  force.  Her  cheeks 
(that  soft  downy  surface,  with  charming  dimples)  col- 
lapsed and  became  livid,  so  that  the  old  lady  shrieked  out 
in  terror,  at  the  same  time  catching  up  the  pitcher  of 
water,  and  throwing  its  contents  into  her  face.  She  soon 
recovered.  Who  would  not,  to  be  so  thoroughly  baptized 
in  ice-water,  in  the  month  of  December?  She  smiled 
faintly,  as  she  looked  up  timidly  into  her  mother's  face, 
saying  in  the  same  soft,  dulcet  voice, 

"  Forgive  me,  grandma  !    I  could  not  help  it." 

"Well !  may  God  forgive  us  both  our  trespasses  !  I  fear 
we  are  both  to  blame,"  rejoined  the  old  lady. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


IS 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    PAR  VENUE  PATRONESS. 

"There  are  smiles  and  tears  in  the  mother's  eyes, 
For  her  beautiful  boy  beside  her  lies  ; 
Oh,  heaven  of  bliss  !  when  the  heart  overflows 
With  the  rapture  a  mother  only  knows." 

"Where  is  Clarence?  "  said  the  grandmother. 

The  daughter  looked  troubled,  and  seemed  afraid  to 
speak.  Grief  makes  us  timid  and  cowardly  sometimes. 
However,  she  nerved  herself  and  replied : 

"  I  have  sent  him  to  that  day-school,  just  across  the 
street.  I  hope  you  will  not  blame  me  for  doing  this  ?  I 
could  not  teach  him  any  longer,  if  I  am  to  engage  in  the 
business  indicated  by  that  rude  sign  over  the  door." 

The  old  woman  frowned,  and  moved  about  uneasily  in 
her  chair,  as  she  rejoined  : 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  know  who  is  to  cut  the  wood  for 
the  kitchen  stove,  fetch  the  coal,  buy  our  marketing,  and 
bring  the  water  from  the  pump?  You  sit  there  more 
dead  than  alive ;  I  am  crippled,  and  almost  blind  ;  still 
you  look  to  me  to  keep  house,  have  all  the  meals  in  order, 
and  make  everything  snug,  and  you  all  comfortable." 

Poor  Myra  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  at  this  tirade 
of  the  garrulous,  but  good-hearted  old  lady.  This  enume- 
ration of  household  cares  could  not  fail  to  bring  to  her 
mind  the  total  destitution  of  her  family.  Then  she 
remembered  that  there  was  neither  coal,  wood,  nor  pro- 
visions in  the  house,  and  no  means  to  buy. 

Just  then  the  old  street-door  flew  open,  and  there  burst 
into  the  room,  like  a  11  sunbeam,"  a  little  boy  about  six 


14 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


years  old.  He  came  bounding  and  dancing  into  the  center 
of  the  room,  then  stopped  and  threw  up  his  little  cap, 
shouting,  "Huzza!  I'm  head  of  my  class,  already,  mamma," 
and  he  looked  so  bright,  and  beautiful,  and  happy,  that 
you  could  never  for  an  instant  possibly  suppose  that  he 
was  an  inmate  of  that  dark,  dismal,  cold  room.  One  would 
naturally  think  of  a  stray  angel,  sent  there  to  cheer  the 
desponding  inhabitants  of  the  place.  So  seemed  to  think 
the  mother ;  for  there  was  a  gleam  of  joy,  and  a  ray  of 
hope  overspreading  that  pale,  sad  face. 

"  Come  here,  my  angel  boy,  and  kiss  your  mother." 

The  child  flew  into  her  arms,  embracing  her  passionately, 
.  then  nestled  on  her  bosom,  and  began  to  sob ;  softly 
repeating,  "  I  love  you,  mamma  ;  /love  you.  Don't  look 
so  mournful,  pretty,  sweet,  good  mamma.  My  heart  is 
full  of  love  for  you.  Never  mind  whether  anybody  else 
loves  you  or  not."  And  there  they  sat,  that  transcend- 
ently  beautiful  young  mother,  who,  but  for  her  deep 
dejection,  w^ould  scarce  have  seemed  beyond  early  girl- 
hood, and  that  glorious  little  boy,  locked  in  each  other's 
arms,  weeping  as  if  their  only  luxury  was  in  tears.  Mean- 
time the  grandmother  looks  on  sullenly,  still  rocking 
herself.  Presently  the  two  weepers  become  calmer ;  the 
clouds  cleared  away  from  the  boy's  April  face,  and  the 
young  mother  looked  less  somber. 

The  child  unwound  his  little  arms  from  her  neck,  and 
gently  slid  from  her  lap.  Approaching  his  grandmother, 
looking  shy  and  confused,  he  said,  "  I  love  you  too,  mam." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  do,"  said  she,  somewhat  gruffly. 
"  Who  said  you  didn't?  But  boy  that  won't  put  bread  in 
your  mouth,  will  it  ?  Can  you  live  on  these  fine  tantrums  ? 
Do  either  of  you  feel  any  better  since  that  copious  shower? 
I  guess  you  will  change  your  note  presently,  when  you 
sit  down  to  knives  and  forks,  and  empty  plates." 

The  child  looked  hurt,  and  instinctively  shrunk  from 
her,  as  we  do  from  whatever  gives  us  pain,  and  again 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


15 


drew  near  to  his  tender,  loving  mother.  The  impressions, 
impulses,  and  instincts  of  childhood  are  very  strong; 
they  can  not  reason,  they  do  not  comprehend,  but  they 
feel.  These  feelings  are  acute,  and  they  obey  their 
promptings.  At  an  early  age  they  acknowledge  the 
influence  of  kindness  of  look,  gentleness  of  word,  suavity 
of  manner. 

Oh  !  what  a  sad,  sad  spectacle  to  me,  greater  than  any 
other,  is  that  of  a  mournful,  dispirited  child.  Great  must 
be  the  sufferings,  tremendous  the  hardships,  and  cruel, 
more  than  cruel,  the  treatment  to  a  child  sufficient  to 
crush  out  its  innate  buoyancy  and  mirthfulness  —  to  put 
out  the  light  and  joy  of  its  little  soul.  In  this  instance, 
the  young  mother  had  so  sheltered  her  cherub  boy  from 
all  want  and  harshness  —  so  adroitly  managed  to  conceal 
the  true  situation  of  her  family  from  him,  that  save  a 
vague  idea  which  was  forced  on  him  by  seeing  her  in 
tears,  and  hearing  his  grandmother's  croakings,  he  had 
no  conception  of  misfortune  or  sorrow.  True,  he  knew 
and  felt  every  day  that  there  was  a  great  change  in  their 
mode  of  life.  It  had  been  but  a  short  time  since  they 
resided  in  a  fine  house,  and  he  was  waited  on  by  servants 
—  was  petted  and  caressed.  He  also  remembered  to  have 
seen  his  mother  and  himself  handsomely  dressed  and  ap- 
parently surrounded  by  friends.  These  reminiscences 
brought  no  joy  to  his  young  mind,  because  the  bare  men- 
tion of  them  drew  a  cloud  over  his  mother's  face,  and 
filled  her  eyes  with  tears.  He  knew  this  had  all  vanished. 
He  saw  and  felt  that  they  lived  poorly,  were  meanly  clad, 
and  oftentimes  he  was  cold  and  hungry.  But  he  also 
knew  that  he  had  only  to  intimate  this  to  his  beautiful 
mother,  when  she  would  by  some  means  supply  him  with 
all  that  was  needful  to  appease  his  appetite  ;  and  when  he 
was  cold,  he  had  but  to  nestle  in  her  bosom,  to  lie  down 
there  and  listen  to  the  beatings  of  that  heart  whose  every 
impulse  he  knew  was  for  him.    The  little  fellow  adored 


16 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


his  mother  with  such  an  entire  devotion  that  it  seemed 
sufficient  for  him  to  be  near  her.  This  was  happiness  in 
itself,  yet  awhile.  But,  as  the  old  grandmother  said,  it 
would  not  satisfy  the  cravings  of  nature.  Presently  he 
crept  up  to  her,  and  asked  in  a  very  humble  voice,  u  If 
she  had  any  supper  for  him." 

For  a  moment  she  hesitated  whether  she  would  box  his 
ears,  or  trouble  herself  to  explain  to  him  the  low  state  of 
their  financial  concerns,  pantry,  larder,  cellar,  etc.  An 
impatient  movement,  with  a  deprecatory  look  from  the 
mother,  induced  the  grandmother  to  desist.  So  she  seated 
herself  again  and  commenced  rocking. 

Myra  now  rose  and  left  the  room  for  a  few  moments. 
When  she  returned,  she  held  in  her  hand  a  stale  loaf  of 
bread,  a  few  drops  of  milk  in  a  broken  tumbler,  and  one 
dried  herring.  After  spreading  a  tattered  cloth  on  the 
little  old  table,  she  placed  these  articles  of  food  on  it, 
which  were  every  morsel  the  house  contained.  Then 
going  to  the  cupboard,  she  took  from  it  a  small  tea  canis- 
ter, and  a  little  delf  teapot,  and  approaching  her  mother, 
asked  her  if  she  would  make  the  tea.  By  this  time 
the  old  lady  had  been  disarmed  of  her  wrathful  feelings 
by  the  subdued  dignity  of  her  granddaughter,  and  taking 
the  things,  she  said, 

"  Well,  child,  where  is  the  water  ?  I  thought  every  fool 
knew  that  it  took  three  things  besides  the  tea  to  make  it: 
water,  sugar,  and  milk." 

"  Oh  I  will  bring  the  water,"  said  the  bright  little  boy. 
With  that  he  caught  up  the  bucket,  ran  to  the  pump,  filled 
it,  all  the  time  singing  one  of  those  beautiful  waltzes 
which  he  had  so  often  heard  his  mother  play  both  on  the 
harp  and  piano. 

When  he  returned,  he  found  standing  before  the  door 
two  ladies,  who  were  trying  to  decipher  the  rude  sign. 
One  of  them  said  (and  his  blood  boiled  while  he  listened), 

"  But  see,  the  fool  has  put  no  name  up.    I  wonder  if 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  17 

she  has  moved.  c  Fashionable  dress-making  by  nobody.' 
It  amounts  to  that ;  and  look  what  sort  of  a  house  too. 
Dear  me,  how  very  absurd  it  is  to  think  of  having  such 
elegant  fabrics  as  yours  are,  made  up  in  such  a  looking 
place  as  this.  Why,  really  I  don't  think  I  could  wear  a 
dress  made  here.  You  may  depend  upon  it,  Emma,  she 
is  some  poor  straggler  altogether  unworthy  of  our  pat- 
ronage." * 

w  Why,  now,  mamma,"  replied  a  pretty,  innocent-looking 
girl  (whose  head  was  no  doubt  full  of  all  sort  of  romance 
about  love  in  a  cottage,  birds,  flowers,  and  whiskers  ;  and 
her  heart,  too,  overflowing  with  benevolence  and  sympa- 
thy, ready  to  yield  up  both  to  the  first  who  should  make 
a  demand),  "  you  should  not  prejudge  this  person.  You 
do  not  know  but  this  poor  old  house  may  present  a  very 
different  aspect  within.  Shall  we  see  for  ourselves?  Shall 
I  knock  ? " 

Just  then  the  little  Clarence  came  up,  bending  under 
his  burden,  the  water  bucket.  The  elder  lady  said, 
rudely, 

u  Boy,  do  you  live  here?" 

M  Yes,"  said  the  child,  catching  the  tone  and  spirit  in 
which  he  was  addressed. 

"  Then  what  is  the  name  of  the  woman  who  sews  ?  " 
pointing  to  the  sign. 

The  boy  pushed  by  her  without  speaking,  and  would 
have  shut  the  door  in  her  face,  had  not  the  girl  added, 

"  JSTow,  mamma,  how  could  you  accost  that  beautiful 
boy  in  that  way  ?  " 

"Why,  Emma,  you  are  a  fool.  Pray,  how  would  you 
have  me  address  such  people?" 

Emma  did  not  reply,  but  turning  to  Clarence,  said, 

"  My  little  son,  my  pretty  little  man,  we  wish  to  come 
in  here,  to  see  the  lady  ;  we  have  some  business  with  her. 
Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  open  the  door  ?  " 

9 


18  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

In  a  moment  a  sweet  smile  beamed  on  the  child's  face 
(which  when  lighted  up  by  happiness  was  as  beautiful  as 
his  mother's).  He  touched  his  cap,  and  as  speedily  as  he 
could,  opened  the  old  creaking  door,  saying, 

"  Walk  in,  if  you  please,  ladies." 

These  two  aristocratic  members  of  the  best  society, 
seemed  to  be  amazed  as  they  viewred  the  premises.  Dis- 
gust and  impertinence  usurp  the  place  of  surprise  with 
the  elder  lady  ;  while  mingled  emotions  of  astonishment, 
admiration,  and  commiseration  are  written  on  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  girl.  Her  eyes  w^ere  riveted  on  the  face 
of  Mrs.  "Wise,  the  mother  of  the  boy.  She  looked  as  if 
uncertain  whether  she  saw  aright,  and  wras  almost  unwil- 
ling to  trust  to  her  sense  of  seeing. 

"  Surely,  I  am  deceived !  It  is  some  bright,  beautiful 
optical  illusion.  She  has  not  moved.  It  is  some  charm- 
ing picture,  or  splendid  statue.  I  will  approach  and  feast 
my  eyes."  *> 

The  elder  lady,  all  this  time,  had  seen  nothing  but  the 
squalid  misery  of  the  apartment,  and  the  poor  old  woman 
who  was  still  proceeding  with  her  scanty  preparations  for 
supper.  In  the  meantime,  the  child  had  placed  himself 
by  his  mother,  ready  to  share  with  her,  whether  good  or 
bad  fortune. 

The  young  lady  was  most  elaborately  dressed,  had 
pleasing  manners,  a  conciliatory  tone  of  voice,  and  rather 
pretty  face.  She  approached  that  mother  and  child  with 
a  respectful  air,  although  a  little  bit  too  patronizing  to 
suit  the  one  or  the  other.  The  boy  possessed  all  his 
mother's  delicacy  of  feeling,  with  her  sensitiveness. 

"  Madam,  I  have  called  to  get  some  dresses  fitted.  We 
were  passing,  and  happened  to  descry  the  sign  over  the 
door." 

Poor  Mrs.  Wise  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  All  the 
blood  in  her  veins  rushed  to  her  face,  and,  by  as  sudden  a 


THE    NIGHT     W  A  T  0  H 


19 


revulsion,  back  to  her  heart,  thus  leaving  that  face  as 
colorless  as  marble.  The  girl  again  looked  amazed,  and 
soliloquized  softly, 

"  Just  now  I  thought  her  a  most  lovely  painting,  look- 
ing like  patient  resignation.  Now  it  is  a  sublime  piece 
of  statuary;  the  similitude  of  grief!  Oh!  how  exquis- 
ite. What  shall  I  say  or  do  next  ?  I  feel  greatly  puzzled, 
and  somewhat  disconcerted." 

I  presume  the  interview  would  have  ended  here,  so 
much  was  she,  in  her  over-wrought  notions  of  romantic 
sensibility,  afraid  of  wounding  the  feelings  of  the  unhappy 
lady ;  but  just  then  her  mother  came  rustling  up  in  her 
brocade  of  regal  purple,  calling  out  in  a  high-pitched 
voice,  "  We  would  like  to  have  several  dresses  made,  and 
we  want  them  done  in  double  quick  time.  We  were  on 
our  way  to  Madam  Bertram's,  who  is  both  fashionable 
and  stylish,  as  well  as  distinguished  for  good  taste.  This 
foolish  child  would  put  in  here. 

"  Will  you  let  us  see  some  of  your  fashions?  Some  of 
your  latest  prints  and  patterns  from  Paris?" 

Poor  Mrs.  Wise  turned  away,  and  did  all  she  could  to 
control  her  feelings — but  to  no  purpose.  This  was  the 
initiatory  step.  With  all  her  griefs  and  troubles  she  had 
not  as  yet  known  much  of  humiliation.  These  were  the 
first  witnesses  of  her  degradation.  Her  poor,  crushed 
heart  had  not  yet  become  indurated  by  slights  and  con- 
tumely. She  turned  from  them,  and  her  whole  frame 
shook  with  convulsive  sobs.  The  child  clung  round  her 
knees,  weeping,  too,  as  he  stretched  out  one  little  hand, 
holding  the  open  palm  toward  them: 

"  Go  away  !  Go  away !  You  have  hurt  poor  mamma's 
heart/'  He  always  expressed  himself  thus,  because  he 
had  so  often  seen  her,  when  troubled,  press  her  hand 
tightly  over  her  heart.  "You  have  made  her  cry.  'No^x 
go  away." 


20 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


The  lady  seemed  vexed,  and  casting  a  scornful  look 
around,  said, 

Come  daughter,  come  Emma  Calderwood,  this  is  no 
place  for  us.    I  am  disgusted  and  tired  of  the  sight." 

Not  so  with  the  young  girl.  She  again  approached 
Mrs.  Wise,  took  her  hand,  and  looking  into  her  face,  wTith 
the  most  sympathetic  as  well  as  respectful  expression, 
added  — 

k'  Pardon,  if  you  please,  my  mother  and  myself,  if  we 
have  given  you  pain,  I  sincerely  regret  it.  Believe  me, 
I  could  not  forsee  this." 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  wretched,"  sobbed  out  poor  Myra,  in 
reply,  "  I  am  driven  to  this  expedient  by  the  direst  neces- 
sity, but  I  am  so  poorly  fitted  for  it  yet.  After  a  while 
I  shall  get  used  to  these  hard  things ;  then  I  shall  do 
better.  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  excuse  this  weak- 
ness?"   She  advanced  to  Mrs.  Calderwood  — 

"  Madam,  I  am  now  ready  to  be  employed." 

"  Oh  yes;  I  dare  say  you  are,  but  it  matters  not.  I 
believe  I  would  rather  not  have  my  fine  silks  sprinkled 
over  with  salt  water  every  day,  or  whenever  you  feel  like 
getting  up  a  scene.  I  think,  however,  I  will  stop  and  see 
your  fashions." 

"  Alas  !  madam,  I  have  none.    I  did  not  think  of  this." 

"Then  of  course  you  can  not  expect  such  persons  as  we 
are  to  give  you  our  work.  "  And  then  with  a  disdainful 
toss  of  the  head,  and  a  sneer  as  she  again  glanced  around 
the  room,  she  called  to  her  daughter  and  swam  out  of 
the  house. 

Before  the  girl  followed,  she  whispered  a  few  words  to 
Mrs.  Wise,  then  slipping  something  into  the  hand  of  the 
little  boy,  bowed  politely  to  the  old  lady,  and  also  passed 
into  the  street. 

After  they  had  gone,  the  grandmother  placed  the  tea 
and  toast  on  the  table,  hobbled  to  a  trunk,  unlocked  it, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


21 


and  took  out  the  very  smallest  sugar  dish,  filled  but  indif- 
ferently well  with  brown  sugar,  muttering  to  herself  all 
the  time  — 

"  Yes,  I  still  lock  up  the  sugar  from  the  negroes  just  the 
same  as  when  wre  had  them  to  steal,  which  they  will  all 
do,  with  a  very  few  exceptions.  This  is  only  the  force  of 
habit,  that's  all.  Come,  children,  and  partake  of  what 
God  has  given  us,  and  be  thankful."  Then  the  three 
poor,  destitute,  lonely  creatures  surrounded  the  table. 
The  grandmother  asked  a  blessing ;  offered  a  sincere  but 
brief  prayer  of  thanksgiving  and  praise. 

That  woman  w7as  old  and  ugly,  had  an  ungracious  man- 
ner ;  was  crusty  of  speech,  impatient  and  stern  sometimes. 
But  beneath  all  this  beat  a  heart  which  was  honest,  and 
true,  and  kind,  and  good.  And  as  she  sat  there  in  the 
presence  of  God,  and  pronounced  that  humble,  heartfelt 
invocation,  who  can  affirm  that  she  did  not  stand  as  fair 
as  angels,  and  seraphs,  and  saints ;  and  it  may  be,  was 
far  more  acceptable  to  God  himself,  than  they  who  sat  in 
high  places,  with  crowned  heads. 

When  they  had  finished  the  meal,  they  drew  around  the 
little  grate.  Clarence  had  crept  to  his  mother's  knees  as 
usual,  and  was  now  trying  to  draw  her  attention  to  a  gold 
piece  which  had  been  given  him  by  the  young  girl,  Emma 
Calderwood.    His  mother  seemed  to  feel  worried  at  it. 

"1  don't  want  it,  my  son,  I  can't  use  it  until  I  have 
rendered  an  equivalent  for  it." 

"  But  mamma,  she  gave  it  to  me.  I  did  not  ask  her  for 
it,  and  now  I  will  give  it  to  you.  Come,  take  it  dear 
mamma." 

"  Give  it  to  me,  Clarry;  your  mother  is  a  simpleton, 
with  her  high  Eoman  virtue,  and  Spartan  notions  of 
endurance,  and  independence,  and  all  that.  I  will  take  it, 
and  look  upon  it  as  a  real  God-send.  I  will,  to-morrow, 
lay  it  out  for  food  to  keep  our  souls  within  our  bodies." 


22  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

The  child  hands  her  the  money,  adding,  "  Grandma,  you 
must  buy  something  pretty  for  my  sweet  mother." 

"  Why,  child,  it  is  five  dollars !  Well,  no  matter,  the 
world  owes  everybody  a  living ;  for  it  is  God's  world,  and 
we  are  all  his  children;  and  if  he  "feeds  the  young 
ravens,"  how  much  more  will  he  feed  us,  who  are  so 
precious  in  his  sight — having  paid  such  a  ransom  for  us. 
Yes,  Clarry,  to-morrow  we  will  lay  in  a  little  stock  of  pro- 
visions, and  wrhen  that  is  gone  wTe  will  continue  to  hope 
and  believe  that  He  will  still  supply  us  from  his  own 
store-house."  So  then,  after  committing  her  little  family 
to  the  protection  of  that  Omnipotent  arm,  she  laid  herself 
down,  calmly  and  peaceably  to  rest,  without  fear  or  dis- 
trust. They  were  all,  with  a  sleeping  world,  in  the  hands 
of  the  living  God.    This  faith  sufficeth. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


23 


CHAPTER  III. 

HOUSEHOLD  CARES. 

"  Vain  we  number  every  duty, 
Number  all  our  prayers  and  tears, 
Still  the  spirit  lacketh  beauty, 
Still  it  droops  with  many  fears." 

The  sun  was  up  and  had  traveled  many  a  mile  on  his 
daily  journey,  before  the  inmates  of  the  hovel  had  left 
their  pillows.  Myra  woke  first,  and  looking  around  on  all 
the  appointments  of  the  miserable  place,  sighed  so  deeply, 
so  heavily,  that  one  might  suppose  the  heart  which  sent 
it  forth  had  been  riven. 

She  took  into  her  arms  the  beautiful  boy,  who  slept  so 
sweetly  by  her  side,  looking  so  pure  and  innocent.  She 
gazed  on  him  with  a  fond  and  swelling  heart.  A  placid 
smile  o'erspread  his  dimpled  face.  "  Surely,"  cried  she, 
"  angels  are  whispering  to  thee.  For  your  sake  my  dar- 
ling one.  I  will  nerve  myself  to  endure  all  things.  I  will 
endeavor  to  forget  the  past,  bear  with  the  present,  and 
look  hopefully  to  the  future.  I  will  learn  to  work,  to 
submit  to  impertinence,  and  cease  to  brood  over  my 
wrongs,  my  sweet  little  Clarry.  Yes,  my  boy,  you  are  to 
be  educated ;  you  must  be  fitted  to  take  your  place  among 
men,  even  though  I,  your  unfortunate  mother,  should  fall 
in  the  life-struggle  to  accomplish  it." 

She  slipped  softly  from  the  bed  —  a  new  spirit  seemed 
to  have  passed  into  her.  For  the  first  time  in  a  great 
while,  there  seemed  to  be,  even  to  her,  an  object  in  life. 
She  dressed  herself  in  the  poor  faded  garments,  all  she 
possessed  on  earth,  and  after  having  made  her  ablutions 


24 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


in  freezing  water,  and  combed  her  hair  with  almost  frozen 
fingers,  she  betook  herself  to  the  novel  task  of  making  a 
fire.  Never  before  in  all  her  life  had  she  attempted  a 
thing  of  the  sort;  never  had  lighted  a  fire,  or  dressed 
without  one.  During  the  space  which  had  intervened 
between  her  luxurious  mode  of  life  and  her  troublous  one, 
she  had  through  inertness,  thoughtlessness,  or  maybe 
apathy,  suffered  herself  to  be  waited  on  by  her  grand- 
mother, who,  by  dint  of  good  management  and  great 
industry,  had  contrived  to  provide  a  few  comforts.  More- 
over, she  was  wholly  absorbed  with  her  griefs  —  and  thus 
it  occurred.  Her  intentions,  motives,  and  actions  were 
all  good,  as  far  as  she  remembered.  Now,  poor  lady,  she 
fails  in  all.  She  could  not  get  the  fire  to  burn  ;  she  used 
all  such  aids  as  the  place  afforded. 

At  last  she  succeeded  in  getting  a  faint  blaze  in  the 
grate  ;  but  this  was  a  small  matter.  The  fire  in  the  stove 
was  a  stupendous  undertaking.  Her  courage  faltered  here. 
She  struggled  hard,  but  accomplished  nothing.  She  over- 
turned the  kettle,  threwT  down  the  poker,  .shovel  and 
tongs,  until  at  last  she  sat  down  and  wept  with  fatigue 
and  vexation.  What  must  she  do?  What  more  could 
she  do  ?  And  now  to  crown  her  troubles,  after  giving  up 
all  hope  of  success  with  the  stove,  she  returned  to  the 
room,  expecting  to  find  a  cheerful  fire  blazing  there,  when 
lo  !  every  spark  was  extinct,  and  she  had  her  first  work  to 
do  over  again. 

The  old  lady  begins  to  yawn  and  groan,  and  in  the 
same  querulous  voice  to  croak : 

"  Now  this  is  hard  on  me,  one  of  my  age,  to  have  to  get 
up  and  do  as  much  service  as  any  negro  girl  in  the  city." 

Poor  Myra,  hearing  this,  came  forward,  and  with  the 
tears  still  glistening  in  her  eyes,  declared  she  had  been  up 
for  the  last  hour  exerting  herself,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
The  grandmother  hobbled  up,  and  as  she  dressed  con- 
tinued to  grumble  all  the  time. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


25 


"  Yes.  so  it  is.  This  comes  of  not  raising  our  children 
and  grandchildren  like  we  have  ourselves  been  brought 
up.  My  father  was  rich  too  :  but  where  I  was  born  and 
bred,  nothing  was  more  common  than  for  girls  to  wait  on 
themselves.  Many  hundreds  and  thousands  of  times  have 
I  made  my  fire  ;  yet  was  my  father  one  of  the  magnates 
of  the  land.  It  was  different  though  with  that  poor  child. 
Where  she  was  reared  it  was  so  difficult  to  do  anything  of 
the  sort.  Her  good,  docile,  gentle  mother  must  e'en  do 
like  other  people,  and  she  doated  on  her  daughter  so 
much,  thinking  she  was  quite  too  pretty  to  do  anything 
in  the  shape  of  work.  I  wonder  if  that  poor  thing  could 
make  a  biscuit  to  save  her  life?    I  reckon  not." 

She  had  by  this  time  completed  her  simple  toilet,  and 
now  with  the  greatest  ease  makes  both  fires,  and  sets 
about  preparing  coffee.  Myra,  in  the  meantime  had  made 
the  beds,  swept  the  floor,  dressed  the  child,  placed  the 
chairs  in  order,  and  spread  the  table  for  breakfast.  True, 
all  this  was  poorly  done  ;  but  she  did  her  best.  When  the 
bread -cart  came  by,  the  grandmother  bought  a  loaf,  and 
also  a  pint  of  fresh  milk.  But  they  had  neither  meat  nor 
butter. 

Again  they  surround  that  frugal  board,  and  the  good 
old  lady  invokes  another  blessing. 

Scarcely  had  this  meal  passed,  when  the  same  young 
lady  who  has  been  made  known  to  the  reader  as  Miss 
Emma  Calderwood,  made  her  appearance.  She  came 
running  into  the  room,  flew  to  the  fire,  spread  out  her 
hands,  and  sitting  down  commenced, 

"  Good  morning,  ladies.  I  hope  you  are  both  well.  I 
declare  this  morning  is  enough  to  freeze  out  all  the  love, 
and  generosity,  as  well  as  politeness,  that  one  may  happen 
to  have  in  her  heart.  Don't  you  think  so  darling?"  said 
she,  kissing  the  little  Clarence. 

The  child  smiled  languidly.  He  did  not  know  exactly 
how  to  take  such  familiarity  from  an  entire  stranger.  As 
3 


26  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

usual,  he  crept  up  to  his  mother,  and  placing  one  little 
hand  around  her  neck,  stood  there  silently  awaiting  the 
result  of  this  early  visit. 

"  I  have  played  mamma  the  nicest  trick.  Poor  mamma 
is  very  peculiar.  I  felt  so  much  hurt  at  what  occurred 
here  yesterday.  I  do  hope  you  will  not  remember  it.  At 
all  events,  do  not  let  it,  I  beseech  you,  make  a  difference 
between  us."  This  wTas  addressed  to  both  ladies.  Then 
turning  to  Myra :  "  I  intend  (with  your  permission)  that 
we  shall  be  friends.  My  heart  is  set  on  it.  I  liked  you 
all,  the  instant  I  laid  my  eyes  on  you.  Last  night  at  tea, 
I  would  tell  papa  of  our  little  adventure,  in  spite  of  all 
mamma's  winks  across  the  table.  Papa  is  quite  different 
from,  mamma ;  he  is  very  indulgent  to  me,  his  only  pet, 
and  suffers  me  to  obey  my  impulses  sometimes,  right  or 
wrong.  When  I  take  a  fancy  to  any  one,  he  allows  me  to 
follow  the  bent  of  my  inclinations.  I  told  him  all  about 
you  this  morning,  down  in  the  parlor,  where  I  pretended 
to  be  practicing ;  but  in  truth  it  was  only  to  get  away 
from  mamma,  because  she  sometimes  makes  herself  so 
disagreeable  to  us  both.  He  kissed  me  and  said,  4  If  mat- 
ters stood  as  I  seemed  to  think,  he  was  not  surprised  at 
my  admiration.'  Now,  my  dear  ladies,"  said  she,  bowing 
to  both,  "  you  must  consent  to  receive  papa,  for  my  sake, 
at  first ;  afterwTard  for  himself —  for  you  can  not  fail  to  like 
him,  he  is  so  handsome,  and  the  most  agreeable  of  men." 

Seeing  a  troubled  expression  on  the  face  of  Myra,  she 
looked  quickly  toward  the  old  lady,  but  there  was  nothing 
in  her  wrinkled  countenance  either  to  reassure  or  discour- 
age ;  she  pursued  her  morning  avocations  as  if  there  had 
been  no  stranger  in  the  room.  Then  the  girl  sought  the 
face  of  the  daughter  again  ;  that  perplexed  expression 
had  given  place  to  one  of  intense  pain,  .and  she  became 
extremely  agitated. 

The  grandmother  called  impatiently  to  her,  "  Myra, 
Myra,  bethink  yourself !   What  are  you  doing ?  " 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


27 


In  an  instant  the  cloud  passed  away,  and  she  smiled 
languidly.  This  kind-hearted  girl  was  very  thoughtless, 
and  sometimes  indiscreet  in  her  manner  of  even  doing 
good.  She  could  not  comprehend  that  what  she  had 
said  was  even  remotely  the  cause  of  Myra's  present 
excitement. 

"  I'm  sure  you  will  love  papa,  he  is  so  fine  looking,  so 
genteel  and  well  bred,  so  polite  and  fashionable.  Now, 
the  long  and  short  of  it  is  this  :  you  must  let  us  both  be 

of  service  to  you.    I  should  feel  so  proud  of  aiding  

I  mean,  of  being  allowed  to  aid  such  a  lady  as  you  are. 
And  }tou,  my  little  Prince  Eegent,  I  have  fallen  dead  in 
love  with  you.  Won't  you  be  my  little  sweetheart  ?  Here 
are  a  few  trifles  which  I  bought  for  you  on  the  way." 

She  opened  several  bundles,  and  discovered  to  the 
delighted  child  a  great  variety  of  pretty  toys.  Infancy 
is  easily  won  off  from  troubles.  The  bright  little  fellow 
clasped  his  hands  together  in  the  attitude  of  thankful- 
ness ;  then  clapped  them  and  fairly  shouted  with  joy  — 

u  Oh  !  mamma  !  Oh  !  grandmamma  !  just  look,  just 
such  things  as  cousin  Walter  used  to  bring  me.  Mamma, 
I  must  give  this  good  lady  my  cousin  Walter  for  a  sweet- 
heart. Tm  too  little,  you  know.  Where  is  he  ?  I  must 
tell  her  about  him." 

A  look  from  his  mother  checked  his  raptures.  He 
looked  abashed,  and  suddenly  became  silent.  The  girl 
remarked  this,  but  was  too  thoroughly  good-natured  and 
well-bred  to  make  any  comments.    She  went  on  — 

"  See  here,  my  little  man." 

"Oh  yes!  a  beautiful  gilt  ball,  looking  like  pure  gold," 
cried  the  child,  u  and  a  splendid  top,  with  such  an  assort- 
ment of  marbles,  and  this  beautiful  little  knife.  Oh  !  dear 
mamma,  tell  me  how  to  thank  the  good  lady. 

Emma  looked  at  Mrs.  Wise  (the  mother  was  watching 
with  delight  the  radiant  face  of  her  son) . 

u  Oh !  my  goodness  !  I  never  saw  such  a  change.    I  do 


28  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

wish  papa  could  see  you  just  now  while  you  are  smiling." 
In  her  delighted  surprise  she  jumped  up,  scattering  the 
sugar  plums,  nuts,  and  raisins  to  the  further  ends  of  the 
room,  flies  to  Mrs.  Wise,  seizes  her  hand,  and  exclaims 
with  enthusiasm  :  "  Oh  !  madam  !  O  my  dear  friend  ! 
promise  me  one  thing  ;  that  you  will  alwTays  smile  on  me 
in  that  way  when  I  come;  then  I  will  steal  away  from 
mamma  every  day,  that  I  may  come  and  sun  my  heart. 
I  have  heard  of  rays  of  light,  and  moonbeams,  and  April 
showers,  and  sunny  skies,  but  I  never  sawT  anything  like 
that  bright  smile  in  all  my  life  before.  Will  you  smile 
thus  when  I  bring  papa  to  see  you  ?  Yet  I  fear  it  will 
turn  his  head." 

She  reseated  herself  and  continued  to  open  the  little 
stores.  Clarence  had  succeeded  in  gathering  up  the  spilt 
comfits.  "  Come  here,  love ;  ask  ma  and  grandma  to  do 
you  the  favor  to  partake  with  you  ,  "  handing  him  a  large 
paper  full  of  fresh  figs  and  beautiful  white  grapes.  These 
had  been  bought  more  with  a  view  to  regale  the  two  ladies 
than  to  please  the  child. 

Now,  it  w^as  a  most  difficult  thing  for  that  old  lady's 
face  to  relax  into  a  smile  ;  it  was  so  un  practiced  in  such 
levities;  but  she  did  her  best  toward  it,  which  amounted 
to  little  more  than  a  grimace.  Yet  her  words  were  kind, 
as  she  thanked  Miss  Emma  for  thinking  of  her.  Her 
voice,  though  far  from  silvery,  was  much  less  grating 
(the  oil  of  kindness  had  found  its  way  to  her  rusty  tem- 
per), and  though  not  smooth,  was  at  all  times  firm  and 
steadfast  when  it  became  her  duty  to  speak,  and  never 
backward  in  praising  God  and  in  reproving  sin. 

Emma  rose  to  depart,  approaching  the  old  lady,  she 
said,  u  Madam,  I  hope  we  shall  be  very  good  friends  in 
future." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  God  knows  it  stands  me  in  hand  to  be  very 
grateful  for  everything  in  the  shape  of  friendship.  But, 
young  lady,  I'm  not  much  in  favor  of  such  sudden  and 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  29 

violent  attacks.  Good  does  not  always  come  of  it.  You 
know  nothing  of  us,  nor  we  of  you.  Presently,  maybe, 
you'll  change  your  mind,  or  you  may  tire  of  us ;  or  some 
one  may  ridicule  you  about  it ;  then  you'll  regret  that  you 
ever  expressed  yourself  so  warmly.  Better  take  things 
a  leetle  more  coolly ,  my  dear,  for  your  own  sake.  But, 
under  God,  I  give  you  fervent  thanks  for  this  outpouring 
of  the  milk  of  human  kindness.  Yesterday,  and  the  day 
before,  and  for  many  days,  I  thought  it  was  all  dried  up. 
I  thank  heaven,  for  the  credit  of  human  nature,  that  we 
have  met  you."  And  this  plain,  upright,  downright,  hon- 
est-hearted old  woman  brushed  a  tear  from  her  bleared 
eyes. 

The  girl  pressed  her  hand,  as  she  said,  "  I  am  very 
happy  to  find  you  care  enough  for  me  to  admonish  me.  I 
shall  long  remember  that  precept,  and  hope  to  be  bene- 
fited also  by  your  example.'' 

Myra  followed  her  to  the  door,  and  explained  to  her 
that  she  expected  to  render  an  equivalent  in  sewing  for 
the  gold  piece  left  with  the  child.  The  girl  looked  hurt, 
broke  away  from  her,  ran  down  the  street  a  short  dis- 
tance, then  returning,  kissed  the  mother  and  little  boy 
affectionately,  adding, 

"  Why  did  you  wish  to  mortify  me  by  speaking  in  that 
way  ?  Was  it  because  mamma  treated  you  as  she  did  ?  I 
could  not  help  it.  Nay,  say  no  more.  Can  not  I  be 
allowed  to  make  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  all  creation  a 
little  present,  when  I  have  such  an  abundance?" 


30 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE    MILLINER'S  SHOP. 

"  Of  all  the  causes  which  conspire  to  blind 
Man's  erring  judgment,  and  misguide  the  mind; 
What  the  weak  head,  with  strongest  bias  rules, 
Is  pride,  the  never-failing  vice  of  fools." 

When  Mrs.  Calderwood  left  the  hovel  and  had  returned 
to  her  splendid  mansion,  she  threw  herself  down  on  a 
sofa  and  commenced  rating  Emma.  In  the  first  place, 
she  was  very  angry  with  her  daughter  for  proposing,  and 
herself  for  condescending  to  enter  such  a  place.  She 
would  say,  "  What  a  fool  I  was,  and  what  a  fool  you  are, 
Emma,  to  think  of  people  of  our  cast  stooping  so  low!" 

The  girl  was  facetious,  and  did  not  stand  in  awe  of  her 
mother ;  she  very  quietly  replied, 

"  Poor  dear  mamma,  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  to 
stoop,  I  went  in  without.  You  did  nt  strike  your  head  I 
hope  though,  mamma?    Yet  the  door  was  quite  low." 

"  You  are  a  little  fool !  I  consider  myself  very  badly 
treated  by  that  insolent  woman.  Who  wanted  to  witness 
all  those  tragedy-queen  airs  in  a  milliner's  shop  ?  I  go 
to  the  theater  when  I  wish  to  see  acting.  And  that  old 
crone  was  so  hateful;  yet  I  declare  I  liked  her  a  thousand 
times  more  than  I  did  the  pretty  one.  Why,  Emma,  she 
makes  herself  a  perfect  Niobe,  or  whatever  it  is  the  hea- 
thens used  to  call  them  crying  goddesses.  I  tell  you 
now,  once  for  all,  I  like  the  old  woman  the  best,  and  if 
she  could  sew,  I  would  give  her  some  work  to  help  her 
along." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I  don't  doubt  it — for  I  have  observed 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  31 

that  you  are  particularly  sympathetic  toward  old  ugly 
women.  I  don't  know  why  either — you  can't  have  a  fel- 
low-feeling for  them,  have  you,  ma'am?"  Mrs.  0  alder - 
wood  was  exceedingly  homely. 

Mrs.  Green  and  Mrs.  Gray  are  announced.  After  the 
usual  nothings  are  passed,  she  recounts  to  them  this  singu- 
lar adventure.  Several  other  ladies  call :  the  story  is  told 
to  all  with  many  embellishments,  and  so  it  travels ;  each 
one  bestowing  her  own  additions  and  adornments,  until  it 
is  made  quite  a  little  romance  of.  This  mischievous 
woman  has  done  all  this  to  gratify  a  natural  malevolence 
of  temper,  and  a  peculiar  spite  she  feels  for  all  pretty 
women.  It  excites  great  curiosity,  and  the  ladies  deter- 
mine to  give  this  mysterious  stranger  a  call. 

Miss  Jones  chimes  in  :  "Yes,  indeed,  Mis  Callerwood,  I 
do  think  madame  nature  had  little  to  do  to  lavish  such 
gifts  on  a  poor  thing  whom  fortune  has  discarded.  I 
shall  call  some  time  to-morrow,  if  I  can  make  any  sort  of 
an  excuse.  Oh,  now  I  remember,  I'll  take  an  old  skuirt  to 
her  to  quilt." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Calderwood,  getting 
up  and  beginning  to  look  animated.  " I'll  go  with  you; 
I  just  want  to  see  what  sort  of  airs  and  tantrums  she'll 
take  on  herself  next  time." 


Miss  Emma  Calderwood  had  just  finished  speaking  and 
left  them,  Mrs.  Wise  had  resumed  her  low  seat,  and  her 
listless  attitude  by  the  fire, — the  child  crouching  at  her 
feet, — when  they  were  startled  by  a  thumping  or  beating 
at  the  door;  I  can  not  call  it  a  rap  or  even  a  knock.  The 
child  springs  up,  his  mother  requests  him  to  go  to  the 
door,  which  he  opens,  and  in  stride  Mrs.  Calderwood  and 
Miss  Nancy  Jones.  Myra  did  not  rise  from  her  seat.  She 
seemed  intuitively  to  understand  that  they  meant  to  in- 
sult her,  and  wished  to  maltreat  her.  To  their  arrogant 
"good  morning,  ma'am,"  she  bowed  slightly,  pointing  to 


32 


THE    NIGH  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


seats,  then  resumed  her  reading.  Clarence  had  shoved  a 
couple  of  chairs  to  the  fire,  then  crept  back  to  his  mother's 
side. 

After  a  short  time  Mrs.  Calderwood  said,  in  a  very 
supercilious  way,  "  Mrs.   I  have  brought  you  a  cus- 
tomer, Miss  Jones,  Mrs.  ." 

A  very  slight  inclination  of  her  head,  and  then  she  lays 
the  paper  in  her  lap,  and  looks,  not  at  the  ladies,  but  into 
the  fire. 

"  Did  I  understand  you,  madam,  last  evening,  to  say  that 
your  Parisian  fashions  would  shortly  arrive  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  madam,  what  you  understood ;  but  I 
said  not  a  word  of  the  sort." 

"  Well,  then,  when  do  you  expect  them  ?" 

"  Never,"  said  Myra,  very  haughtily. 

"Now  that's  cool,  isn't  it?" 

"  'Tis  honest,  at  least,"  rejoined  Miss  Jones.    "  Can  I 

get  you,  Mrs.   ,  to  quilt  me  an  under-skuirt?    I  have 

one  I  want  to  get  made  out  of  old  dress-tails." 

No  reply — Myra  resumed  her  newspaper. 

"When  can  you  have  it  done?"  she  went  on,  winking 
at  Mrs.  Calderwood. 

"  I  do  not  understand  any  such  work.  I  will  not  under- 
take it." 

"Pray,  then,  what  do  you  understand?"  added  Mrs. 
Calderwood.  "Yesterday  you  plead  ignorance  about 
what  your  sign  out  there  intimates ;  now  you  can't  do 
plain  sewing.  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  inform  us 
what  you  do  understand,  and  what  you  will  undertake?" 

"  I  understand  clearly,  madam,  that  you  came  here  this 
morning  to  maltreat  me ;  therefore  the  sooner  we  close 
this  interview  the  better,  and  I  undertake  to  protect  my- 
self and  family  as  best  I  may,  from  insult ;  also  to  rid  my 
house  speedily  of  any  who  are  wicked  and  cruel  enough 
to  meditate  such  unprovoked  attacks." 

She  made  a  sign  to  the  child,  who  went  himself  to  the 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  33 

door  and  set  it  wide  open,  then  took  his  place  on  one  side, 
as  if  to  show  the  ladies  out.  They  took  the  hint.  Miss 
Jones  rose  first  and  set  up  a  giggle,  which  seemed  to 
incense  the  little  boy,  whose  face  flushed,  and  tears  started 
to  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  his  mother,  who  was  very 
pale,  but  calm. 

"Hoity  !  toity!  but  she's  high-flown  and  lofty,  though, 
isn't  she,  Mis  Callerwood?" 

Mrs.  Calderwood  glared  at  poor  Myra  with  those  great, 
pale,  blue  eyes,  and  in  passing,  said,  "  I'll  make  you  sorry 
for  this." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  madam,"  said  Myra. 

Ere  the  door  was  closed,  two  other  ladies  entered. 
They  came  without  glancing  over  the  room,  or  showing 
any  surprise,  which  was  a  great  relief  to  the  inmates. 
Coming  up  to  Mrs.  Wise  (who  was  now  expecting  imper- 
tinence from  every  one,  and  did  not  at  first  rise,)  they 
greeted  her  with  a  courteous  good  morning:  she  in 
return,  received  them  in  the  most  polished  lady-like  way. 
The  lady  introduced  herself  as  Mrs.  Green,  and  then  pre- 
sented her  daughter,  Miss  Mary  Green. 

Myra  invited  them  to  the  fire,  and  laid  aside  her  paper. 
Then  there  were  a  few  trite,  but  necessary  remarks  about 
the  weather,  and  a  little  well-timed  notice  of  the  child. 
It  was  clear  that  this  was  done  to  open  the  way  for  some 
business.  Poor  Myra  felt  the  delicacy  of  the  procedure, 
and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  she  could  control 
her  feelings. 

Matters  had  progressed  thus  far,  wThen  the  poor  old 
crippled  grandmother  came  hobbling  in  with  a  huge  bas- 
ket on  her  arm.  She  did  not  perceive  the  ladies,  and 
was  taken  greatly  by  surprise,  and  really  looked  amazed, 
when  Myra  got  up  and  said  almost  cheerfully,  "  Allow 
me,  ladies,  to  make  you  acquainted  with  my  grandmother; 
Mrs.  Wise,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Green." 


34  THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 

The  young  lady  rose  at  once  and  offered  her  seat  at  the 
fire.  Mrs.  Wise  took  it  unhesitatingly,  and  as  she  threw 
herself  into  it,  said, 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear.  I  am  very  tired,  as  you  can  no 
doubt  see.  All  good,  well-bred  young  ladies  have  a  sym- 
pathy for  the  aged  and  the  infirm.  Clarry,  my  son,  bring 
that  stool  and  place  it  here.  Now,  Miss  Green,  you  will 
do  me  the  favor  to  sit  by  me."  The  child  brought  an  old 
backless  chair  from  the  shed  and  set  it  down  as  directed, 
The  girl  seated  herself. 

"  Oh  !  you  are  so  cold ;  let  me  help  you  off  with  your 
gloves." 

When  she  had  removed  them  (for  the  old  lady  was 
quite  passive,  looking  pleasantly  into  her  face),  Miss 
Green  took  those  poor,  withered  hands,  which  were  stiff 
with  cold  and  hard  from  servitude,  and  chafed  them  until 
all  coldness  disappeared  from  them,  as  well  as  all  gruff- 
ness  from  the  countenance. 

When  they  are  about  to  depart  the  elder  lady  be- 
came embarrassed,  hesitated.  At  last  she  said  rather 
hurriedly  :  "  Mrs.  Wise,  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  you. 
My  daughter  will  leave  home  soon,  to  be  absent  some 
time.  I  shall  be  much  hurried,  fitting  out  her  wardrobe. 
Will  you  assist  us  ?  I  shall  take  it  as  a  favor,  and  will  be 
most  happy  to  make  all  due  return." 

Myra's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  could  not  speak. 
Then  ensued  a  pause,  which  was  only  broken  by  the  child 
saying,  as  he  tugged  at  his  mother's  hand,  to  gain,  her 
attention, 

"  Oh  !  yes,  mamma,  you  must  help  that  good  lady  to 
sew.  God  sent  her  here  to  get  you  to  help  her.  He 
knows  how  nicely  you  can  stitch,  mamma,  and  He  wants 
her  to  have  her  work  done  well.  Grandmamma  says  God 
orders  everything,  and  all  things ;  then  He  sent  these 
ladies  here,  and  Miss  Emma  too." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


35 


He  jumped  up  to  the  little  cupboard,  gets  his  paper  of 
confectionary,  and  pressed  them  to  partake,  saying  — 
"Another  good  lady  brought  me  these." 

Mrs.  Wise  pressed  their  hands  in  silence  ;  while  the 
grandmother  uttered  in  a  voice  husky  with  emotion, 
"  God  will  reward  and  bless  you  for  all  kindness  to  His 
poor.    We  thank  you  for  His  dear  sake." 

When  they  were  gone,  the  grandmother,  perhaps  to 
avoid  a  scene,  calls  little  Clarry  to  her  in  a  cheerful  tone, 

M  Come  here,  son,  and  see  what  grandma  has  bought 
with  your  gold  piece.  Quite  a  little  store.  Get  your 
slate  and  calculate  it." 

He  ran  off  with  alacrity.  When  he  returned,  he  seated 
himself,  saying,  "  Now  I  am  ready,  mam,  to  cypher  it  all 
up.  By  what  rule  must  I  work  ?  Addition,  subtraction, 
division,  or  multiplication  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it  will  take  your  entire  stock  of  knowl- 
edge in  each  one.  This  is  a  wholesale  business  of  ours 
this  morning." 

u  I'm  waiting,  grandma." 

"  Child,  bring  me  that  basket,"  said  she  to  Myra.  She 
repeated  it  in  a  louder  voice :  "  Myra,  Myra,  don't  you 
hear  me  speak  to  you  ?  " 

Then  the  poor  lady  started  up,  and  looking  wildly 
around,  said,  "  Did  you  speak  to  me,  grandmother?  " 

"  Oh  !  Lord  have  mercy  on  us !  What !  dreaming 
again  ?  Hoped  you  had  got  waked  up.  I  thought  so  just 
now,  when  those  ladies  were  here.  I  want  you  to  bring 
me  that  new  basket.  Now  begin,  sir.  First  of  all,  I 
gave  fifty  cents  for  the  basket,  set  that  down  ;  twenty-five 
for  butter,  fifty  for  tea,  fifty  for  coffee,  twenty -five  for 
loaf  sugar,  twenty-five  for  brown  sugar,  twrenty-five  for 
molasses,  twenty  for  rice.  Then  I  came  by  the  market 
and  got  two  little  beefsteaks  and  some  nice  country  sau- 
sages, these  were  fifty  cents.    I  bought  a  dollar's  worth 


36  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

of  coal,  and  a  cart-load  of  wood  for  the  little  stove.  I 
gave  a  man  a  dime  to  bring  the  basket.  I  had  forgotten, 
I  have  a  few  potatoes.  And  here  is  fifteen  cents  left, 
which  you  must  have  to  do  as  you  please  with." 

"  Then  where  will  you  get  the  money  to  buy  a  little 
milk  for  your  and  mamma's  coffee,  or  to  get  the  warm 
loaf!" 

"  Oh  mercy !  sure  enough,  or  to  pay  for  the  hauling 
the  coal  and  wood,  and  for  cutting  it  up.  What  shall  we 
do  ?  "  cried  the  old  lady.    "  I  had  quite  forgotten  all  this." 

Just  then  there  was  a  noise  in  the  street,  as  of  some- 
thing being  thrown  out,  with  a  thundering  knock  at  the 
door. 

"Hallo  !  there." 

Mrs.  Wise,  the  elder,  limped  to  the  door.  A  red-haired, 
savage-looking  man,  his  face  and  hands  smeared  and  be- 
grimed over  with  mud  and  coal  dust,  came  forward,  and 
demanded  the  money,  twenty-five  cents  for  the  hauling. 
She  offered  him  fifteen,  saying,  "  This  is  all  I  have  in  the 
world.    I  will  pay  the  other  dime  soon." 

He  refused  it,  adding,  while  he  looked  at  her  insolently, 
"  Then,  be  Jasus  !  ye  hadn't  ought  to  employ  honest  men 
to  work,  when  ye  know  ye  haint  got  the  tin  to  pay  'em. 
I  tell  you,  '  auld  one,'  I  wants  my  money.  I'm  a  poor 
man,  what  lives  by  my  labor,  and  what  axes  no  favors  of 
any  body,  only  to  pay  me  my  wages." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  I  know ;  but  this  is  every  cent  I 
have  on  God's  earth." 

"  Thin  I'll  jist  take  some  o'  them  good  things  what  ye 
had  in  the  basket  when  I  met  ye  down  by  your  coal  pen." 

"  Oh  no  !  this  must  not  be ;  these  are  all  the  provisions 
we  have." 

The  daughter  could  stand  it  no  longer.  She  came  to 
the  door,  her  eyes  flashing  fire  and  her  face  flushed.  There 
she  stood  in  all  her  native  majesty  and  beauty,  looking  at 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


37 


the  man  for  a  moment  in  silence.  The  poor  craven  wretch 
actually  cowered  before  her  ;  she  saw  it,  and  in  a  voice  of 
contemptuous  pity,  said, 

"  Go  away,  sir,  and  call  this  afternoon ;  then  perhaps  I 
may  be  able  to  settle  with  you." 

The  man  doffed  his  cap.  "  Yes,  me  leddy,  but  what 
time  would  you  have  me  come?" 

"  Five  o'clock,"  said  Myra. 

At  the  same  moment  a  cart  is  driven  up  by  a  negro 
boy,  who,  throwing  out  the  wood,  comes  up  to  Myra, 
takes  off  his  hat,  scratching  his  woolly  pate  :  "  Missus, 
you  owes  me  fifteen  cents,  if  you  please,  mam." 

u  Call  presently,  my  good  little  uncle." 

u  Yes,  mam,  I  will,"  and  he  drove  off. 

"  My  God !  "  said  Myra,  throwing  herself  down  in  a 
chair,  u  do  I  deserve  all  this  suffering?  Insult,  cold,  hun- 
ger, with  prostration  of  soul  and  body." 

After  sitting  still  for  some  time,  her  eyes  cast  down,  her 
head  bowed  as  in  humility,  she  laid, 

u  Mother,  I  have  an  idea  that  this  thing  is  being  pushed 
too  far.  I  think  Til  end  it.  What  is  life  worth  to  me 
now  ?  One  brazier  of  charcoal,  with  the  use  of  that  little 
shed,  some  night  when  all  the  windows  and  doors  are 
closed,  and  I  shall  be  beyond  this  misery." 

Hush,  Myra,  that  is  impious.    Think  of  your  child." 

The  little  fellow  came  in  laughing,  having  been  highly 
amused  with  the  unloading  of  the  carts.  He  jumped  glee- 
fully into  his  mother's  lap,  throwing  his  arms  around  her 
neck,  and  kissing  her  fondly.  For  the  first  time  he  finds 
those  impassioned  caresses  meet  no  return.  He  slid  from 
her  lap,  while  her  arms  fall  down  despairingly  by  her 
side.  Her  eyes  are  fixed  on  vacancy ;  she  can  not  weep  ; 
all  softness  is  dried  up.  Adversity  hardens  some  hearts 
which  are  naturally  gentle  and  tender.  Her's  could  only 
be  reached  through  kindness,  noble  deeds,  generous 
actions.     Squalid  misery  brought  no  feeling  but  that 


38 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


of  disgust,  rebellion,  and  loathing  of  life.  We  know  this 
is  all  wrong,  but  wTe  are  recording  facts ;  putting  them 
down  as  they  really  are,  and  not  as  they  should  be. 

Poor  little  Clarence  crept  to  his  grandmother,  and  hid 
his  face  in  her  apron,  sobbing  out  u  What  is  the  matter 
with  mamma." 

"  Oh,  God  only  knows  child.  I  can't  understand  her 
high  ways.  Your  mother,  my  dear,  although  my  own 
grandchild,  is  a  riddle  to  me.  She  has  grand  ways  even 
in  being  sorry.  Sublime  in  grief  I  suppose  the  book  people 
would  call  it.  Now,  for  my  part,  when  G-od  withdraws 
the  light  from  me,  I  just  know  I  have  done  something  to 
displease  him ;  and  although  I  may  not  exactly  at  the 
time  feel  what  it  is,  I  believe  that  it  is  good  for  me  to  be 
chastised.  Then  I  make  up  my  mind  at  once,  to  submit, 
pray,  and  repent.  But  I  never  stop  work,  mind  you, 
child.  Having  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  I  do  not 
withdraw  it.  After  awhile  he  suffers  me  to  come  home 
to  the  Saviour.  But  this  is  the  darkest  season  I  have 
ever  known.  Yet,  what  matter  ?  It  is  not  too  dark  for 
the  light  of  his  forgiving  smiles  to  penetrate  and  scatter. 
He  is  looking  on,  dear  children,  and  will  suffer  things  to 
go  just  so  far  and  no  further.  In  his  own  good  time  he 
wTill  lift  the  burden,  or  take  us  home.  Yes,  Clarry,  take 
us  home  to  heaven  ;  where  the  best  and  truest  friend  we 
ever  had  is  waiting  for  us.  Blessed  Jesus !  thou  art 
indeed  a  true  friend  to  the  poor,  and  needy,  and  wretched. 
£  If  thou  art  for  us,  who  shall  be  against  us?  '  " 

Another  thundering  knock  at  the  door.  A  man  stands 
there  with  baton  in  hand ;  he  is  clothed  in  coarse  furs, 
coat  buttoned  up  to  his  eyes,  over  which  a  fur  cap  is  drawn 
so  as  almost  to  conceal  them.  This  is  the  guardian  of  the 
streets,  whose  business  it  is  to  make  the  ways  straight 
and  smooth,  for  the  rich  and  great  to  walk  in,  lest  they 
strike  their  feet  against  a  stone.  The  man  calls  out  in  a 
loud  and  somewhat  gruff  voice,  "  Wood  and  coal  in  the 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


39 


street  —  can't  stay  —  must  be  removed  before  sundown  — 
heavy  tine,  else." 

He  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  Myra,  with  a  pensive, 
abstracted  air,  goes  to  the  door.  The  man  looks  at  her 
with  amazement,  and  involuntarily  takes  off  his  cap. 

"What  is  it,  sir?  "  asked  the  absent-minded  lady. 

"  Well !  I  don't  know  now.  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to 
you,  miss  ?  " 

He  approached  very  near  to  her,  looking  steadfastly  in 
her  face,  with  much  more  of  curiosity  and  admiration 
than  impertinence.  Though  he  came  up  with  a  deferen- 
tial manner  he  advances  too  close  —  the  lady  suddenly 
recovers  from  her  abstraction  and  slams  the  door  in  his 
face.  He  utters  an  impatient  exclamation,  and  a  little 
oath ;  then  moves  -off,  dubiously  shaking  his  head,  and 
repeating  to  himself  as  he  hurries  along  : 

"  Well,  she  is  pretty  —  there's  no  mistake  about  that. 
But  what  right  had  she  to  insult  me  in  that  way  ?  To 
slam  the  door  in  my  face,  and  she  living  in  that  old  shanty, 
too.  Such  beautiful  women  should  not  expose  their  sweet 
faces  at  such  a  door  as  that,  if  it  offend  them  for  such  men 
as  me  to  gaze  at  them.  I  shouldn't  have  hurt  her  little, 
white  hand  ;  only  meant  to  touch  it,  and  offer  my  services. 
But  zounds  !  she  looked  grand.  Oh,  wouldn't  she  queen  it 
over  a  fellow  ?  I  reckon  she  is  some  great  lady  from  over 
seas,  and  is  unfortunate ;  maybe  been  badly  treated, 
robbed,  deserted,  forsaken.  If  so  I  don't  blame  her.  I 
rather  think  I  did  gaze  too  hard  at  her  —  the  unhappy  do 
not  like  to  be  speered  at.  Some  other  time,  maybe  I  can 
help  her  along  ;  do  her  a  quiet  little  service.  I'd  do  any- 
thing for  her,  just  to  get  a  look  at  her  beautiful  counte- 
nance. About  sundown  I'll  pass  along  there  again,  and 
if  that  wood  and  coal  are  there  still,  I'll  knock  again  ; 
then  maybe  I  may  get  another  glance ;  but  it  shall  be  a 
distant  view.  I'll  never  offend  her  again.  I  wonder  who 
she  is,  and  where  she  came  from?  " 


Y 


• 

40  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     LITTLE    SCOTCH  WOMAN. 

"  The  tear  down  childhood's  cheek  that  flows, 
Is  like  the  dew-drop  on  the  rose ; 
When  next  the  summer  breeze  comes  by, 
And  waves  the  bush,  the  flower  is  dry." 

Poor  Myra  seemed  to  have  nerved  herself  for  endurance 
that  day.  Throughout  all  her  vexations  she  remained 
passive,  as  if  waiting  to  see  what  new  shape  her  troubles 
would  assume. 

"  Grandma,  what  do  you  propose  now?  Do  you  wish 
me  to  go  out  and  bring  in  the  coal,  and  saw  that  wood?" 

"  ]Nfo,  but  Clarry  can  bring  the  coal  to  the  door,  and 
we'll  trust  to  chance  about  the  wood." 

"  Well !  trust  on  mother.  "We'll  see  presently  what  your 
trust  will  bring  us.  We'll  see  !  Oh,  we'll  see !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha ! " 
She  laughed  hysterically  as  the  tears  ran  down  those 
peach-blossom  cheeks.    Then  she  fell  again  into  reverie. 

"  Come,  darling,  you  go  and  fill  the  box,  and  poor  old 
cripple  grandma  will  take  it  at  the  door,  and  carry  it 
through  to  the  kitchen.  See,  here  are  two  boxes.  We'll 
soon  have  it  all  in  —  then  we'll  think  about  the  wood." 

She  gets  a  coarse  apron  with  long  sleeves,  puts  it  on  the 
child,  and  ties  one  around  her  own  waist.  The  beautiful 
boy  goes  out,  and  commences  his  labors.  Every  one  who 
passes  stops  an  instant  to  look  at  the  lovely  little  creature, 
with  his  sunny  curls  waving  in  the  frosty  air.  Some  speak 
to  him,  but  he  heeds  them  not.  Presently  he  stops  and 
thinks  a  moment.    His  grandma  gives  him  the  box;  he 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


41 


fills  it,  and  says,  "  Grandma,  I  am  so  tired,  let  me  rest  a 
little  while." 

When  the  door  is  closed,  he  takes  from  his  pocket  his 
golden  ball  and  top,  and  runs  off  to  a  toy-shop. 

"  Sir,  these  things  were  given  me  a  very  short  time  ago, 
by  a  good  lady,  but  they  are  too  pretty  for  poor  me,  now. 
Will  you  buy  them?  Give  me  a  little  money  for  them. 
Look,  my  fingers  are  almost  frozen  from  carrying  in  coal." 

u  Why,  yes,"  said  the  man,  "  these  be  nice  things,  rlow 
much  do  you  want  or  expect  to  get  on  them,  my  boy?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.   Whatever  you  may  choose  to  give." 

"Well,  here  is  fifty  cents." 

The  child  laid -the  toys  on  the  counter.  They  were 
worth  at  least  a  dollar.  Then  the  little  fellow  ran  back 
to  his  work. 

"  Aweel !  now  Patrick,  are  ye  not  ashamed  to  swindle 
that  1  wee  bit  bairn,'  in  that  way?  Don't  ye  see,  can't  ye 
see  by  one  blink  o'  your  little  grey  een,  that  the  puir  lit- 
tle body  .is  cheated  ?  <  Oh,  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie 
us,  to  see*oursels  as  others  see  us.'  " 

M  Now,  me  leddy,  you  jist  go  and  give  him  more,  if  you 
want  to.  I've  done  very  well  by  him,  methinks,  seeing 
he's  a  stranger ." 

u  Ah  !  that's  it ;  but  what  does  the  gude  God  tell  ye 
about  the  stranger  within  thy  gate  ?  " 

This  conversation  passed  between  a  little  Scotch  woman 
and  the  Irish  shop-keeper.  She  had  come  to  buy  some 
trifle,  but  her  mind  being  taken  up,  just  then,  with  the 
child,  she  left  without  making  her  purchase. 

The  man  shouted  after  her  in  rather  a  loud  voice, — 
"  Miss  Minny,  Miss  Minny  Dun,  come  back;  I  want  a  word 
with  ye." 

"  Aweel,  some  ither  time ;  I'm  going  doon  here  to  speak 
to  the  chiel  a  bit." 

When  she  arrived  at  the  place,  Clarence  was  working 
like  a  Trojan.  The  tears  were  forced  down  his  cheeks  by 
4 


42 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


the  cold  ;  still  his  little  heart  was  not  discouraged.  Near- 
ly all  the  coal  had  been  taken  in,  and  his  sweet  face  was 
so  blurred  and  begrimed  with  tears  and  smut,  that  an 
intimate  friend  could  not  have  recognized  him. 
"  Good  day  to  ye,  my  darling." 

The  child  looked  up,  but  as  quickly  cast  his  eyes  down, 
seeming  to  be  ashamed  of  his  employment. 

"  Oh,  now,  never  mind  the  work  ;  it's  all  right  and  hon- 
orable to  do  sae  ;  and  never  mind  the  dirt  either  ;  but 
puir  little  soul,  you  let  that  man  up  there  cheat  you.  Sor- 
ry, sorry  fellow  that  he  is  !  He  didn't  give  you  half  the 
worth  o'  your  pretty  toys." 

"  O,  mam  !  but  I  don't  mind  ;  he  gave  me  more  than  I 
expected  of  him.  Grandma  says  that's  the  way  of  the 
world.    I  am  very  glad  of  that  much." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it,  birdie?  "  asked  the 
girl  affectionately. 

"  You  see  that  wood  there  ;  well,  I  am  going  to  get  it 
all  sawred  up  and  packed  away  in  the  kitchen.  I  have 
no  ax,  and  grandmother  can't  buy  one  yet.  I  could  chop 
it  up  myself,  for  my  sweet  mother's  and  grandmother's 
sake,  if  I  had  the  ax."  Then  he  drew  himself  up  to  his  full 
hight,  looking  proudly  on  the  little  pile  of  wood.  "You 
know  I  love  them  so  much  that  I  love  to  work  for  them." 

"  Aweel,  dear,  just  let  me  loan  you  this  little  piece  of 
money  to  get  it  done  this  time,  and  when  you  grow  large 
enough  to  work,  then  you  will  pay  me  back." 

"  Oh !  please,  Miss,  don't  make  me  owe  you  anything. 
I  do  not  know  whenever  I  can  pay  you.  Pray  don't 
make  me  be  in  debt.  Grandma  says,  £  Owe  no  man  any- 
thing but  good  will;'  " 

"But,  dear,  I'm  not  a  man,  you  see.  I'm  only  a  little 
woman,  a  poor  little  shop-keeper.  Yet  I  can  spare  this 
sma'  sum.  Nae  doubt  I  shall  want  ye  many  a  time  to  do 
me  a  turn.  We  are  neebors,  chiel' ;  I  live  just  a  wee  bit 
farther  adown  the  street.    Come,  keep  it." 


T  H  E     N  1  G  H  T     W  A  T  0  H  .  43 

They  call  him  from  the  house,  and  the  little  Scotch 
woman  passed  on,  reflecting  and  turning  about  in  her 
mind  how  she  can  benefit  the  child  and  the  inmates  of 
the  hovel.  At  a  glance  she  has  discovered  that  there  is 
poverty  and  suffering  within  the  old  moldy  walls. 

The  last  box  of  coal  is  put  away,  the  apron  is  taken  off, 
and  the  child  is  washed,  his  pretty  hair  combed,  and  every 
vestige  of  his  recent  occupation  removed.  Some  of  the 
new  coal  is  put  on,  which  burns  up  cheerfully.  The  old 
lady  has  made  a  clean  fireside,  and  set  all  things  in  order. 
The  superb  and  refined  Myra  had  packed  the  coal :  she 
could  not  sit  there  and  see  the  grandmother  limping  back 
and  forth  with  the  box. 

The  child  looks  weary,  and  begins  to  fret.  "  Mamma,  I 
am  so  hungry ;  almost  starved,  mamma,"  he  cries. 

Myra  looks  at  her  grandmother,  but  says  nothing. 

u  Yes,  my  love,  I  don't  doubt  it,  but  presently  we'll 
have  the  very  nicest  little  supper  you  ever  sat  down  to  in 
your  life  :  molasses,  sausages,  warm  loaf,  tea,  milk."  3he  t 
rubs  her  hands  (this  good  old  lady)  in  pretended  glee, 
while  the  child  smiles  faintly,  and  hides  his  little  head 
between  his  mother's  hands. 

Another  knock  at  the  door. 

"  I  will  not  open  it ;  "  said  Myra,  "  it  is  only  that  hate- 
ful Irishman,  and  I  have  not  the  money  to  pay  him." 

Again  the  knock  —  thump,  thump,  thump. 

H  I'll  see,  any  how,  before  they  batter  down  the  old 
door,"  added  the  old  lady. 

The  poor  mother  presses  her  child  to  her  bosom,  and 
turns  her  face  to  the  wall  in  utter  helplessness.  The 
child  had  fallen  asleep. 

A  negro  man  stands  there  with  a  frame  and  hand-saw. 

"I'se  come,  mistis,  to  saw  up  dat  wood  out  dar." 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  she,  u  how  much  is  it  ?  " 

"  Two  bits,  mam." 

"  Oh  !  if  it's  only  one  cent,  I  have  it  not,  and  this  min- 


44  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

nte  I  do  want  the  wood  to  cook  supper.  Can't  you  saw 
it,  and  wait  for  the  money  ?  " 

He  scratches  his  head,  and  turns  his  quid  of  tobacco 
from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  spits,  and  looks  sheepish. 
"  I  would  in  a  minit,  Mistis,  but  my  own  Mistis  'quires  the 
money  of  me  every  night." 

He  was  about  to  move  off,  when  the  little  Clarence  starts 
up,  rubs  his  eyes,  and  going  to  the  door,  says, 

"  Here,  grandma,  I  have  money  to  do  everything.  Get 
the  uncle  there  to  saw  up  the  wood  ;  then  here  is  more  to 
pay  for  the  hauling,  besides  enough  to  buy  the  hot  bread, 
fresh  milk,  and  all.    Now  go  to  work,  uncle,  I'll  settle  it." 

"I  thought  so,  master;  little  Miss  Minny  Dun,  down 
dar,  told  me  to  come,  and  said  a  little  chubbub  (cherub), 
or  sompin  of  dat  sort,  would  pay  me.  She  call  little  mar  - 
ser,  here,  all  kinds  putty  names  and  sweet  things.  I  tell 
you,  honey,  you  well  off  on  dis  airth,  if  you  got  good  lit- 
tle Miss  Minny  for  your  friend." 

"  What  is  your  name,  uncle?  "  said  the  child,  hanging 
to  his  hand. 

u  Uncle  Ned,  honey.    What's  yourn,  young  Massa?  " 

"  Mine  is  little  Clarry  ;  everybody  calls  me  little  Clarry. 
Now  go  to  work,  Uncle  Ned,  and  I  will  be  pay-master. 
First  cut  a  little  bit,  and  make  grandma  a  nice  fire  in  the 
stove  to  cook  supper." 

This  was  speedily  done.  The  child  goes  as  usual  to  the 
pump  for  water,  the  old  lady  proceeds  with  her  cooking, 
while  Myra  sits  as  usual  with  a  handkerchief  over  her 
head.  We  do  not  know  whether  she  is  weeping,  but  we 
do  know  that  she  is  thinking  and  sorrowing. 

When  the  man  has  placed  all  the  wood  away  in  the 
kitchen,  he  comes  in  to  get  his  pay. 

"  Here,  Uncle  Ned,  but  you  must  sit  down  and  warm 
yourself,  while  I  bring  you  your  supper.  It  is  very  nice  ; 
you  never  tasted  anything  so  good  as  the  sausages.  Don't 
they  smell  savory,  uncle?  " 


THE    N  I  G  II  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


45 


"  Well,  dey  does  dat.  Dey  does  smell  nice,  and  dat's  de 
truph  ;  an'  I  is  hungry.  'Sides,  I  aint  not  got  no  where 
to  stop  to  git  a  crumb  of  nothing  till  I  goes  home  to-night." 

The  child  had  it  all  fixed  on  a  plate,  and  getting  a  bowl 
of  coffee,  takes  it  in  to  the  negro.  Then  he  returns 
and  takes  his  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  He  is  the  mas- 
ter of  the  mansion;  he  felt  that  he  was,  and  he  looks 
proudly  around  and  seems  quite  happy. 

The  negro  having  finished  his  meal,  departs.  Then  the 
coal-man  comes  and  receives  his  dues  from  Clarry's  little 
hand,  who  is  now  general  purser  and  purveyor. 

The  sun  is  making  a  golden  set — the  promise  of  a 
bright  day  on  the  morrow.  He  looks  in,  though  late, 
upon  the  inmates  of  that  hovel;  and  his  evening  rays 
penetrate  and  light  up  the  somber  dwelling. 

"  Eehold  that  sunbeam,  Myra !  It  has  been  gloomy, 
cold,  and  dark  all  day.  Now  at  the  close,  see  that  glori- 
ous sunset.  Hail  it,  my  daughter,  as  a  happy  augury  ! 
Don't  you  see  now.  my  dear,  that  our  wants  have  been 
supplied — all  our  exigencies  met,  with  little  or  no  effort 
on  our  part — almost  without  our  agency !  Now,  my 
child,  will  you  still  distrust  God  ?  Will  you  not  rather 
cast  all  your  cares  on  the  Saviour  ?  " 

Myra  spoke  not,  but  wept  in  silence.  This  was  the 
only  way  to  reach  that  lofty  spirit — that  proud  heart. 
There  was  no  other  way  to  sound  the  depths,  and  touch 
that  self-sufficient  nature. 

"  Here,  mamma,  is  still  a  little  more  money." 

u  Where  did  you  get  it  all,  my  love?  "  said  the  mother, 
at  last  drawn  from  herself  and  her  sorrows,  by  that  sweet 
prattler. 

The  little  fellow  recounts  to  them  very  minutely  the 
incidents  of  the  morning.  Then  that  embryo  of  all  truth, 
honor,  and  manliness,  sinks  sweetly  to  rest  on  the  bosom 
of  his  beautiful  mother. 


\ 


46 


T  H  E    NIGHT    W  A  T  0  H  . 


CHAPTEB  VI. 

HEART  REVEALINGS  AND  THE  "  TRUE  FRIEND." 

"  No  thought  within  her  bosom  stirs, 

But  wakes  some  feeling  dark  and  dread ; 
God  keep  thee  from  a  doom  like  hers, 
Of  living  when  the  hopes  are  dead." 

It  is  Sunday  morning,  with  a  bright,  clear  atmosphere, 
and  cloudless  sky.  That  invalid  old  lady  rises  from  her 
hard,  rough  bed,  calls  her  children  around  her,  and  now 
sets  up  in  their  miclst  the  family  altar.  She  blesses  God 
for  existence;  returns  thanks  to  him  for  whatever  health 
she  and  those  dear  ones  are  permitted  to  enjoy ;  for 
strength  of  body  and  mind  given  them  for  endurance ; 
for  that  shelter ;  for  food  and  raiment ;  above  all,  for 
redemption  and  the  hope  of  salvation.  Eeader,  dost  thou 
think  they  have  much  reason  to  thank  him?  She  thinks 
so  (that  old  lady),  for  she  has  the  love  of  Christ  in  her 
soul,  and  firmly  believes  that  all  else  will  be  added.  She 
feels  no  uneasiness,  no  dread,  for  perfect  love  casteth  out 
all  fear. 

She  is  now  in  the  midst  of  her  world.  She  lays  one 
hand  on  the  head  of  that  heart-stricken  young  mother — 
that  once  light-hearted,  happy,  perhaps  worldly-minded, 
but  none  the  less  crushed  woman,  that  deeply-injured  wife. 
The  other  is  placed  on  that  of  the  sweet  child  by  her  side. 
She  invokes  God's  watchful  care  over  them;  she  pleads 
for  a  mitigation  of  their  sorrows,  if  it  pleaseth  him ;  she 
begs  for  the  gift  of  the  graces  of  patience,  submission, 
confidence,  and  faith — such  as  can  move  mountains;  and 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


47 


concludes  with  the  invocation  for  the  friendship  of  Christ, 
saying,  "  Give  them  this,  O  Father,  and  it  is  enough." 

Dear  old  lady  !  halt,  lame,  and  almost  blind ;  with  thy 
unpolished  ways,  and  thy  unvarnished  tongue,  and  maybe 
inflexible  nature :  but  thou  meanest  well,  ever  aiming  to 
do  right.  And  God,  thanks  to  his  name  !  is  a  discerner 
of  the  heart ;  and  also  of  the  pure  gold  from  the  glitter- 
ing dross.  He  knows  thou  art  trying  to  honor  him,  in 
thy  humble  efforts  to  trim  and  keep  alive  thy  little  rush- 
light, through  all  storms  and  tempests. 

When  their  simple  devotions  were  ended,  they  betook 
themselves  each  to  their  different  avocations.  The  child 
again  brings  the  water,  while  his  grandmother  prepares 
the  breakfast.  His  mother,  the  delicate,  fastidious  Myra, 
finds  work  for  those  white  hands  and  taper  fingers,  look- 
ing, for  all  the  world,  like  little  pure  wax  candles,  so 
transparent  are  they  in  their  whiteness.  The  feeling 
common  to  her  while  going  through  these  menial  details, 
is  that  of  impatience  and  loathing.  She  sometimes  flings 
down  the  implements  of  housewifery  in  disgust  and  dis- 
couragement, and  declares  that  she  would  rather  lie  down 
and  die,  than  to  pursue  that  life  of  degrading  drudgery. 

Her  grandmother  at  such  times,  turns  on  her  a  look  of 
grieved  remonstrance — not  uttering  a  word  of  rebuke  or 
even  gentle  reproof — quietly  pursuing  her  occupation, 
whatever  it  may  chance  to  be  at  the  time.  But  one  thing 
we  have  noticed :  after  an  ebullition  of  such  feelings,  for 
that  day,  and  the  next,  and  one  more,  perhaps,  provisions 
are  very  scarce  on  that  frugal  board.  Every  comfort  is 
lopped  off ;  presently  it  dwindles  down  almost  to  nothing, 
and  they  sit  down  to  a  crust  and  a  glass  of  water,  or 
maybe  a  cup  of  tea,  without  even  the  few  grains  of  sugar 
and  drops  of  milk  allotted  to  each.  This  silent,  unsus- 
pected discipline  proves  salutary ;  and  thus  matters  are 
adjusted  without  a  word. 

There  is  nothing  so  chastening  to  poor  human  nature, 


48 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


as  hard,  stern,  necessity.  Want  and  lean,  lank  hunger 
will  bring  people  to  their  senses,  and  also  extract  what- 
ever latent  strength  of  character  there  may  he  concealed 
beneath  the  conventional  rubbish  of  a  worldly,  superficial 
education.  Splendid  suffering  will  not  do  it ;  such  as  the 
poor  body  endures,  racked  however  much  by  pains,  and 
scorched  by  fever  on  a  luxurious  bed  of  down.  Gilded 
misery  will  not,  such  as  sore  and  lacerated  feelings,  hid 
away  to  rankle  in  a  bruised  or  broken  heart,  beating  under 
furs  and  velvet,  and  gold  and  silver  trappings.  These  will 
not  bring  down  a  haughty  spirit,  or  call  forth  strength  of 
purpose;  because  this  very  pride  sustains  tbe  one,  while 
it  enervates  the  other.  Pride  of  place,  pride  of  birth, 
pride  of  person,  and  pride  of  wealth  will  blind  its  vota- 
ries, even  in  death.  But  just  let  nature  put  in  her  claims, 
the  cravings  and  gnawings  of  the  two  vultures ;  and  if 
there  are  any  powers  within,  see  if  they  do  not  come 
forth  and  stalk  abroad  to  do  battle  against  the  enemy,  the 
fell  destroyer  starvation.  Or  if  not  thus  fiercely,  then 
witness  the  windings,  the  turnings,  the  devious  ways,  the 
artifices,  the  subterfuges,  the  leaping  over  and  crawling 
under  obstacles ;  nay,  the  cringing  and  skulking,  if  needs 
be,  to  find  the  means  to  appease  these  yearnings  and  pro- 
pitiate the  foe. 

Myra  did  her  part,  when  forced  thus  to  contemplate  this 
ghastly  picture ;  but  without  alacrity,  earnestness,  or 
hope.    Yet  she  would  not  starve  —  so  she  worked. 

"  My  daughter,  we  must  attend  God's  sanctuary  to-day. 
This  is  His  day,  and  we  must  endeavor  to  keep  it  suitably. 
Therefore  we  must  all  go  to  church." 

"  I  can  not,  grandma  !  I  can  not  go  even  to  the  Lord's 
house,  to  be  looked  down  on  by  those  who  are  placed 
above  me  now,  by  this  downward  turn  of  the  wheel  of 
fortune.  Besides,  I  have  no  seat,  consequently  no  right. 
Then  I  wTill  not  show  myself  in  these  old,  faded,  tattered, 
garments  ;  and  you  should  not.  if  I  could  prevent  it." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


49 


M  Oh,  child !  your  troubles  have  unsettled  your  mind, 
and  dried  up  all  softness  in  your  nature.  Do  you  think 
for  a  moment,  that  there  will  be  any  difficulty  in  finding 
a  place  to  worship  God,  in  his  own  temple  ?  " 

u  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  not  willing  to  risk  it.  I  will 
not  go  there  to  be  gazed  at  by  the  heartless  puppets  who 
assemble  there  to  act  a  part." 

u  Well,  I  will  go,  and  must  take  the  child  as  a  walking- 
stick,  and  see  who  will  insult  me,  or  ask  me  out.  Indeed, 
I  shall  feel  that  I  have  just  as  good  a  right  there  as  any 
other  one  of  the  poor,  crawling  things  on  this  His  foot- 
stool.   I  shall  take  the  child,  Myra." 

u  But,  grandma,  he  is  so  badly  dressed ;  his  little  toes 
and  elbows  are  out,  and  his  clothes  are  old  and  rusty." 

"  Never  mind  all  that.  Who  will  know  us,  child? 
None  will  see  or  care  for  us  in  that  vast  assemblage,  save 
He,  the  God  of  glory,  who  when  on  earth  had  not  where 
to  lay  his  head." 

They  left.  Myra  sat  for  a  few  moments  musing  deeply. 
She  thought  of  her  altered  condition  ;  she  felt  her  isola- 
tion there  in  that  fine  city ;  she  brooded  over  her  wrongs, 
her  persecutions  —  but  she  did  not  see  her  own  faults. 
She  did  not  seem  to  feel  that  she  was  weak,  and  sinful, 
and  needy*  Now,  as  she  sat  there  in  that  room,  there 
was  an  expression  of  injured  feelings,  wounded  pride, 
great  wretchedness,  excruciating  suffering  —  but  there 
was  no  compunction  for  sin.  She  did  not  think  she  had 
committed  any  fault  which  might  have  been  the  moving 
cause  of  this  overwhelming  misery.  Perhaps  she  had  not. 
God  knows :  we  do  not.  She  broods  over  her  condition, 
her  position  in  the  world,  until  her  heart  seems  to  collapse ; 
but  her  brain  grows  hot,  and  feels  full.  The  impulse 
comes  on  her  to  rush  away ;  to  flee  from  the  haunts  of 
men ;  to  hide  and  be  at  rest. 

"  Motion  —  motion  I  must  have — air  and  motion. 
Oh !  for  the  power  to  soar,  to  take  wings,  and  fly 
5 


50 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


away  from  all  familiar  places.  My  God!  what  shall  I 
do?    Eemain  here,  and  my  brain  maddens." 

She  rushes  to  the  door,  tugs  madly  at  the  old  bolt,  and 
flings  it  wide  open.  Then  she  is  admonished,  by  rude, 
gaping  looks,  that  there  is  no  silence,  no  seclusion  there  — 
no  sepulchral  gloom,  such  as  her  feelings  covet,  to  be 
found  on  that  thoroughfare. 

One  person,  more  impertinent  than  the  rest,  approaches 
her ;  she  slams  the  door  to,  in  his  face,  with  such  force  as 
to  shake  the  whole  edifice  to  its  foundation. 

"  Oh  !  where  shall  I  go  ?  Where  shall  I  fly,  to  get 
away,  far  away  from  all,  but  more  particularly  from 
myself.  Alas  !  I  have  no  place.  The  narrow  conrpass  of 
these  walls  comprise  my  world  at  present,  and  this  only 
for  a  short  time  perhaps,  and  that  by  sufferance.  Oh  ! 
my  God !  what  have  I  done,  thus  to  deserve  thy  hot 
displeasure  !  " 

After  rushing  across  the  room  a  score  of  times,  she  stops 
as  if  to  think,  folds  her  arms,  and  walks  with  a  slowT  and 
measured  pace  to  and  fro  in  that  prison-house. 

Presently  she  seats  herself  before  her  little  wrork-table, 
and  takes  from  its  drawTer  a  blank-book  in  which  she 
wTrites  rapidly,  and  without  intermission,  for  a  short  time. 
Then  she  leans  back  in  her  chair,  looking  pale  and  worn, 
as  if  tired  of  all  things. 

"  Ah  !  yes,  my  dear  journal!  thou  art  a  true  friend.  I 
can  speak  to  thee  in  confidence.  Thou  dost  never  prate 
of  the  o'erfraught  heart,  w7hen  in  its  desperation  it  has 
entrusted  thee  with  its  revealings.  From  the  hour  that  I 
first  felt  myself  so  aggrieved,  I  have  poured  out  to  thee 
my  plaints.  Still  thou  art  very  patient ;  thou  dost  not 
tire  of  my  wailings,  like  other  friends.  I  have  confided 
to  thee  my  most  hidden  thoughts.  See,  they  have  swelled 
into  such  a  book.  Thou  hast  helped,  and  still  must  help 
me  to  bridle  this  untamed  nature.  For  a  week  past  I  have 
had  much  to  humble  me ;  and  I  thought  this  turbulent 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


51 


spirit  had  been  broken.  Not  so  :  I  find  it  still  as  ungov- 
ernable, and  as  hard  on  the  bit  as  the  '  wild  Arab 
steed.'  My  grandmother  chides,  and  exhorts,  and  prays 
for  me.  But  she  speaks  to  dull  ears  ;  I  can  not  understand 
her  philosophy.  She,  dear,  single-minded,  perhaps  delu- 
ded old  lady,  finds  out  some  blessing  in  eve^thing.  She 
says  she  can  trace  the  finger  of  God  in  all,  and  believes  it 
will  eventuate  in  good.  She  quotes  texts  after  texts, 
which  she  calls  promises  ;  seems  to  expect  me  to  embrace 
and  apply  them  all ;  is  hurt  that  I  can  not  see  with  her 
eyes,  and  have  faith,  or  trust,  or  hope,  or  something  else, 
all  equally  a  riddle  to  me. 

"  In  the  school  of  religion  where  I  w^as  taught  —  not 
Christ,  but  the  church,  the  high  church  —  they  did  not 
dive  so  deeply  into  the  subject  as  my  good  grandmother 
does.  We  skimmed  very  smoothly  and  lightly  over  the 
surface  ;  and  were  in  the  church  because  it  was  reputable 
to  be  a  member  of  one  of  those  aristocratic  congregations, 
and  also  to  have  a  seat  in  this  or  that  gilded  or  Gothic 
structure.  She  holds  strange  doctrines,  too ;  such  as 
1  When  two  or  three  are  met  together  in  the  name  of 
Christ,, there  shall  his  temple  be ; '  that  an  altar  set  up  on 
the  hill  side,  or  on  the  mountain  top,  or  in  a  cave,  or 
even  under  a  green  tree,  is  equally  the  sanctuary  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts.  I  was  not  taught  this.  I  only  thought  of 
His  presence  when  the  organ  pealed,  the  choir  chanted, 
and  when  his  vicegerent  thundered  his  anathemas  from  the 
sacred  desk,  or  made  the  invocation  through  the  Litany. 
I  wish  I  could  feel  thus.  Alas  !  I  can  not.  My  thoughts 
are  taken  up  with  my  situation,  the  injustice  of  this  hard 
decree,  which  separates  me  from  the  world  ;  the  cruelty 
of  man,  far  more  merciless  than  wild  beasts,  for  they  do 
show  some  signs  of  feeling  for  their  offspring.  ISTor  do 
they  always  prey  upon  their  own  species. 

"  But  this  good  old  grandmother  of  mine  can  see  beau- 
ties in  all  things,  while  to  me  the  deformities  are  only 


52 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


obvious.  She  thanks  God  day  by  day  for  blessings  which 
seem  to  me  to  be  curses.  What  want  I  with  existence? 
What  is  life  to  me  now  ?  What  does  it  bring  me  each 
rising  of  the  sun,  but  contumely,  hardship,  want,  and  a 
prospect  of  starvation, —  each  going  down  of  the  same,  but 
a  feeling  of  destitution,  a  couch  watered  with  tears,  sleep- 
less, or  if  not  sleepless,  then  heavy  and  dreamless  nights." 

She  gets  up  and  takes  her  place  by  the  window,  and  looks 
out  on  the  passers  by,  seeming  somewhat  subdued  and 
calmer.  The  old  rickety  door  swings  open,  grating  harsh- 
ly on  its  rusty  hinges.  The  good  grandmother  and  bright 
little  boy  enter. 

"  Ah  !  here  you  are,  my  hope,  my  joy,  my  life  !  " 

The  child  rushes  to  his  mother,  throws  two  little  cling- 
ing hands  around  her  neck,  and  nestles  in  her  lap.  Then 
untwining  those  supple  arms,  he  places  his  little  hard 
hands  on  her  peach-blossom  cheeks,  and  draws  her  down 
to  him,  kissing  her  fondly,  as  he  says,  looking  timidly  at 
the  old  lady,  "  Dear  mamma,  I'm  so  glad  you  did  not  go 
to  church.  A  great,  big,  grand-looking  lady,  dressed  so 
finely,  came  storming  into  the  pew,  and  asked  — — " 

u  Hush  !  hush  boy  —  you  must  not  say  ugly  things  to- 
day. Let  all  things  appear  pretty  and  peaceful  on  Sun- 
day. Never  mind  what  passed  in  the  church,  there  is 
enough  to  be  thankful  for  any  how.  Come,  darling,  and 
help  grandma  to  patch  up  a  nice  little  Sunday  dinner. 
Your  mother  has  been  dreaming  again.  See,  she  has  let 
the  fire  go  out.  Now,  my  baby,  run  and  get  me  some 
water.  Presently  we  shall  be  as  happy  as  kings  and 
princes ;  nay,  more  so,  for  they  always  do  lack  one  thing, 
the  one  jewel  in  their  crowns  is  wanting,  and  the  absence 
of  this  embitters  all  else." 

Myra  is  again  wrapped  in  revery.  Something  has  oc- 
curred in  the  street,  or  she  has  seen  some  one  to  disturb 
her  tranquillity,  a  moment  ago,  and  she  seems  strangely 
disconcerted  and  greatly  agitated. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


53 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

SCENES    IN    THE  SANCTUARY. 

"  What  is  a  church?    Our  honest  sexton  tells, 
'Tis  a  tall  building  with  tower  and  bells." 

"  Where  some  are  thinkm'  on  their  sins, 
And  sume  upon  their  claes ; 
Ane  curses  feet  that  fyVd  his  shins, 
Anither  sighs  and  prays." 

When  tlie  old  lady  and  child  arrived  at  the  church,  and 
entered  the  vestibule  of  one  of  those  stately  edifices  where 
the  rich  and  the  grand,  and  the  proud,  mock  God  in  their 
attempts  to  worship  him  in  pomp  and  state,  there  were 
but  few  persons  yet  arrived,  for  the  hour  was  early,  and 
the  bells  had  not  yet  chimed  the  last  peal.  A  pursy,  bea- 
dle-looking man  stood  there.  The  old  lady  divined  his 
office  at  a  glance,  for  she  understood  all  these  things,  hav- 
ing been  but  a  short  time  since  a  respected  member  of  a 
more  magnificent  church  than  that,  and  also  accustomed 
to  as  much  opulence  as  any  who  essayed  to  pray  there. 

The  man  looked  at  the  coarse,  plain  dress,  the  old, 
crumpled  bonnet,  and  faded  shawl ;  then  glanced  at  the 
little  boy,  without  cloak  or  overcoat,  standing  there  shiv- 
ering (for  these  very  fine  churches  are  oftentimes  cold 
places),  and  made  up  his  mind  that  they  were  paupers, 
who  had  come  to  extract  the  pittance  from  the  rich  pew- 
holders  ;  therefore  he  pointed  over  his  shoulder  with  his 
thumb  to  a  certain  corner  set  apart  for  such  persons. 
But  she  turned  from  him,  and  walked  up  the  long  aisle. 
Seeing  a  pew  door  open,  she  entered,  and  with  the  child 
takes  her  seat  in  the  far  corner.    They  dropped  on  their 


54 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


knees,  and  prayed  fervently  to  Him  who  knows  all  our 
wants  before  we  have  spoken,  but  has  only  promised  to 
give  unto  those  who  ask. 

The  burden  of  the  child's  prayer,  after  he  had  said, 
"  Our  Father,"  was,  "  O  Lord !  bless  my  beautiful 
mother  and  my  good  grandmother,  and  my  friend,  Miss 
Emma,  and  the  good  little  Minny,  and  Uncle  Ned ;  and, 
O  Lord !  if  it  please  thee,  don't  let  my  grandmother 
scold  my  poor  dear  mother  so  much  ;  but  any  how  I  be- 
seech thee,  my  kind  Father,  to  bless  'em  both.  Amen." 

Now  he  rises  from  his  knees,  takes  his  seat  by  the  old 
lady ;  but  there  is  a  troubled  expression  on  that  purely 
transparent  countenance  —  an  uneasy,  maybe  a  slightly 
alarmed  look.  He  again  drops  on  his  knees.  At  that 
moment  the  child  was  the  only  kneeling  figure  in  the 
house.  He  did  not  care  ;  he,  baby  as  he  was,  aimed  to 
please  God  and  not  the  congregation.  In  his  noble  disin- 
terestedness, his  almost  divine  unselfishness,  and  his  anx- 
iety to  invoke  blessings  on  his  friends,  he  had  failed  to 
implore  aid  for  himself.  He  had  been  taught  by  that  old 
lady  —  she  with  the  coarse,  rough  shell  enshrining  such  a 
sweet  kernel  —  that  he  could  not  live  properly  or  happily 
without  God's  assistance  day  by  day. 

Now  that  vast  assembly  kneel.  The  solemn,  dignified 
successor  to  the  apostolic  office  is  at  the  altar. 

When  they  are  again  seated,  a  haughty,  over-dressed, 
but  handsome  woman,  with  a  pale,  quiet-looking  young 
man  at  her  elbow,  comes  in,  and  touching  the  old  lady, 
signs  to  her  to  leave  the  pew.  She  does  not  understand. 
She  never  dreamed  that  such  a  feeling  could  have  birth  in 
the  human  breast.  What !  refuse  to  a  stranger  a  seat  in 
God's  own  mansion  !  She  could  not  suppose  such  a  mon- 
strosity. She  hands  her  the  prayer-book,  and  smiles 
innocently  at  the  grand  lady,  who  in  return  scowls  down 
on  her,  and  again  motions  to  her  to  go  out,  adding,  "  I 
want  my  seat."    The  poor  old  lady  rises,  and  taking  the 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


55 


child  by  the  hand,  totters  feebly  out.  Her  agitation  and 
her  infirmity  make  her  progress  down  the  aisle  slow.  Ere 
she  reaches  the  door,  she  is  arrested.  A  gentleman,  whose 
pew  is  opposite  to  that  of  the  lady  of  such  haughty  mien, 
and  who  has  witnessed  the  whole  procedure,  now  comes  out, 
and  darting  one  glance  of  keen  reproach  at  her,  follows  the 
old  woman  and  child.  When  he  has  arrested  her  atten- 
tion, by  touching  her  lightly  on  the  arm,  he  bows  respect- 
fully, and  begs  her  to  return  and  take  a  seat  with  him; 
which  they  do.  After  showing  them  in,  he  follows,  sit- 
ting down  by  the  child.    The  service  proceeds. 

The  full,  deep-toned  organ  sends  forth  its  solemn  peals, 
mingling  with  the  rich  melody  of  human  voices.  The 
embassador  of  Christ  again  stands  at  the  altar  in  his 
sacerdotal  robes,  and  there  before  him  stands  that  vast 
congregation  of  immortal  souls,  combining  all  the  ele- 
ments of  human  nature  requisite  to  make  up  a  world. 
Who,  if  endued  with  omniscience,  would  dare  to  look  into 
the  hiding-places  of  those  seven  hundred  human  hearts  ? 
Methinks  it  would  be  a  fearful  sight  —  a  loathsome  spec- 
tacle. Alas  !  who  can  have  the  courage  to  contemplate 
the  workings  of  his  own  deceitful  and  desperately  wicked 
nature. 

Here,  then,  are  kneeling,  and  bowing,  and  genuflect- 
ing, and  chanting,  and  praying,  and  praising,  all  respon- 
sive to  that  chaste  and  beautiful  liturgy;  as  I  have  said, 
seven  hundred  beating  hearts,  all  apparently  solemn  and 
grand.  How  many  of  them,  think  you,  dear  reader,  were 
blameless  in  the  sight  of  G-od  ?  |he  who  reads  the  heart? 
Why  was  that  poor  old  crippled  woman  required  to  give 
up  her  place  ?  Think  you  that  haughty  one  had  a  right 
to  make  a  distinction?  to  draw  the  dividing  line  there 
in  the  temple  of  the  Almighty?  Will  it  be  thus  before 
the  judgment  seat,  when  the  seventh  seal  shall  be  opened? 
What  then  will  be  the  relative  position  of  these  three 
members  of  Christ's  church  ? 


56 


T  HE     NIGH  T     W  A  T  C  H 


Now  the  service  is  ended,  the  benediction  is  pronounced, 
and  the  crowd  is  dispersing.  The  gentleman  stoops  down 
and  inquires  of  the  gentle  child  if  he  lives  in  the  city. 

"Yes,  sir.  Won't  you  go  home  with  me  and  see  my 
mother  ?  I  want  my  dear  mamma  to  help  me  thank  you 
for  your  politeness  to  poor  grandma."  There  was  a  dew- 
drop  in  those  sweet,  upturned,  violet  eyes,  and  a  tremu- 
lousness  in  his  soft  voice. 

"  Thank  you,  my  little  man,  it  would  afford  me  much 
pleasure.    Where  shall  we  find  her  ?  " 

"  I  will  show  you.  Come  with  me,"  and  he  held  on  to 
the  gentleman's  hand. 

This  little  dialogue  had  been  carried  on  in  a  low  voice, 
but  there  was  a  pair  of  keen,  envious,  jealous  ears  kept 
wide  open  to  catch  each  vibration  of  the  music  which  fell 
from  the  innocent  lips  of  that  sweet  prattler.  She  noticed 
that  look  of  admiration  on  the  part  of  the  gentleman; 
she  witnessed  with  a  pang  his  respectful  attentions  to  that 
insulted  old  lady  ;  and  then  she  would  have  given  half  of 
her  fine  estate  if  she  could  have  revoked  her  conduct. 
She  would  almost  have  consented  to  change  places  with 
that  lowly,  outraged  one.  Beneath  velvet,  satin,  and  furs 
there  beat  a  heart  that  day  whose  every  throb  was  one 
prolonged  agony.  She  stood  still  as  the  little  pany 
slowly  defiled  from  the  church.  She  placed  herself  in  the 
way  of  this  grandly  handsome  man,  who  was  now  as  cold 
and  stern  to  her  as  she  herself  had  been  to  the  woman. 
He  gave  back  no  look  of  recognition.  His  eyes  fell  on 
her  face  as  if  for  the  first  time. 

Now  she  offers  the  morning  salutation,  expecting  him  to 
join  her  —  that  proud  lady.  He  slightly  bows  and  passes 
on.  The  new  friends  separate  themselves  from  that  gay 
throng,  leave  the  fashionable  promenades,  and  strike  off 
into  a  less  frequented  walk.  Presently  they  arrive  at  the 
humble  dwelling.  The  gentleman  looks  greatly  surprised  ; 
he  shakes  hands  with  the  little  boy,  bows  to  the  old  lady, 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


57 


and  is  about  to  pass  on ;  the  child  clings  to  his  hand  and 
begs  him  to  come  in  and  see  his  mother.  He  declines, 
but  promises  to  call  soon. 

As  he  passes  the  window,  there  is  a  face  pressed  against 
the  glass.  He  starts  violently.  It  is  a  face  of  such  super- 
human beauty  that  he  involuntarily  exclaimed,  "  Surely 
it  is  a  dream  of  poetry  !    She  can  not  be  mortal !  " 

A  man  with  a  rough  bear-skin  coat  and  coarse  furs  saw 
that  start,  and  marked  the  look.  Some  little  distance 
back  there  is  a  haughty  but  apparently  troubled  beauty, 
somewhat  in  advance  of  a  pale,  quiet-looking  young  man, 
who  sees  the  start  and  notes  the  look.  He  sees  it  too  ; 
and  the  sweet,  innocent  cause  of  all  this  interest  sees  the 
start,  the  sudden  halt  and  drawing  up  before  that  old, 
one-sided,  creeling  window. 

At  first  she  smiled  brightly  ;  then  some  memory  seemed 
to  sweep  over  her  mind,  and  her  face  flushed,  then  paled, 
as  if  from  deadly  sickness.  She  turns  despairingly  away 
from  the  window,  and  her  head  droops  on  her  breast. 

Meantime  that  slight  semblance  of  a  man  at  the  side 
of  the  proud  la*dy  institutes  quite  a  catechism.  We  know 
not  whether  with  a  view  to  annoy  or  entertain.  He  haz- 
ards many  comments  on  the  wreather,  etc.,  all  to  as  lit- 
tle purpose.  She  heeds  him  not;  still  hurrying  on.  The 
youthful  lover  smiles  sarcastically. 

They  are  now  before  that  old  house  where  they  saw 
the  old  lady  and  child  disappear.  A  wicked  thrill  of  ex- 
ultation ran  through  her  frame  as  she  viewed  the  premi- 
ses ;  taking  in  all  at  a  glance.  She  then  marks  with  a 
curious  eye  the  old,  tattered  curtain  at  the  window. 
Above  all,  the  rude  sign  over  the  door  fills  her  heart  with 
delight.  ''Fashionable  Dress-maker,  from  New  York." 
She  points  to  it,  and  looking  at  the  young  man,  laughs 
scornfully.    He  is  silent. 

ISTow  it  so  turned  out  that  by  an  irresistible  impulse, 
Myra   is   again  at  the  window,  and  when  the  proud 


58 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


beauty  arrives  there,  she  also  stops  with  a  start  and  sud- 
den halt. 

Intense  envy,  jealous  rage,  and  fiendish  hatred  are  the 
inmates  of  her  breast.  Oh  !  what  commotion  and  strife 
are  raging  there  ;  but  all  is  still  and  deep,  like  the  hushed 
storm  when  garnering  its  strength  ere  it  descends  to  do 
its  fell  work  of  destruction.  When  she  arrives  at  her 
own  mansion,  she  waves  her  companion  into  the  parlor, 
and  rushes  to  her  own  room. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  59 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

THE    DINNER  PARTY. 

"  Their  various  cares  in  one  great  point  combine 
The  business  of  their  lives,  that  is — to  dine/' 

u  I  own  that  nothing  like  good  cheer  succeeds — 
A  man's  a  God  whose  hogshead  freely  bleeds  ; 
Champagne  can  consecrate  the  damnedst  evil ; 
A  hungry  parasite  adores  a  devil." 

When  this  proud  beauty  finds  herself  alone,  she  flings 
the  door  to,  with  a  force  which  shakes  the  whole  edifice. 
She  now  commences  tearing  off  those  costly  adornments. 
The  gaudy,  senseless,  trappings  of  wealth,  which  are  em- 
ployed as  ministers  to  the  Court  of  Fashion,  and  are 
always  the  faithful  insignia  of  folly.  When  she  is  disen- 
cumbered she  throws  herself  down  on  the  sofa  with  the 
utmost  abandon,  and  indulges  the  following  monologue : 

"  Well !  I  have  done  for  myself!  Fool,  fool,  that  I  am. 
It  is  all  over  between  us  now  !  I  saw  it  in  his  look !  'Twas 
written  on  that  lofty  brow — that  nervous  upper  lip.  The 
icy  glance,  the  freezing  manner,  told  me  that  he  not 
only  resented  my  conduct  to  that  old  wretch,  but  that  he 
heartily  despised  me.  Oh  !  why  did  I  not  remember  how 
strange  he  is  about  such  things !  Then  I  might  have 
choked  down  the  natural  loathing  I  feel  for  poverty.  I 
could,  to  please  him,  have  endured  her  presence  for  so 
short  a  time.  But  it  never  entered  my  head  ;  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a  thing  as  sitting  in  my  own  pew  alongside 
of  a  beggar !  I  was  not  taught  this ;  I  feel  no  impulse 
moving  me  to  it ;  I  remember  no  precept  or  example  of 


60 


T  H  E    NIGHT    W ATOM, 


the  sort,  and  the  circle  in  which  I  move  furnishes  no  pre- 
cedent. What !  who  would  ever  think  of  such  a  thing  as 
the  mingling  of  luxurious  wealth  with  squalid  misery! 
I  wish  he  would  not  hold  such  crude,  obsolete  principles : 
c  That  you  must  give  to  paupers  in  a  particular  way,  with 
discrimination  and  delicacy.'  How  troublesome  and 
absurd!  I  take  them  uen  masse.71  Everybody  must 
know  that  their  hearts  are  dried  up  ;  their  sensibilities 
pinched  to  a  mere  speck  ;  and  all  sensations,  save  such  as 
are  employed  to  exact,  are  squeezed  out  by  their  mode 
of  life.  Still  he  will  talk  about  the  manner  and  kind 
words  being  worth  more  to  mendicants  than  the  real  sub- 
stance. 

"  Pshaw !  he  is  a  fool — a  greater  one  even  than  I  am. 
I  would  not  have  hesitated  to  give  that  old  hag,  and  that 
upstart  boy,  ten,  twenty,  or  even  fifty  dollars,  had  they 

asked  charity  of  me  on    street — I  might  even  have 

spared  more,  had  a  subscription  been  handed  by  somebody. 
Nay,  I  would  have  given  a  hundred  to  please  him.  But 
I  fear  the  jig's  up  now — I  was  taken  so  by  surprise — I 
did  not  know  that  the  amenities  of  life  were  to  be 
extended  to  old  beggar  women  and  little  ragged  urchins. 

"  Oh !  how  proudly  disdainful  he  looked,  when  he 
vouchsafed  me  that  one  cold  glance ;  and  then  to  follow 
the  old  wretch  home  !  I  hate  her,  because  I  have  mal- 
treated her.  He  is  to  dine  here  to-day — I  will  then  try 
to  extenuate  my  conduct.  After  all,  this  may  not  be  so 
hard  to  do.  Half  a  million  of  dollars  is  a  good  thick  veil, 
and  there  are  very  few  persons  whose  spectacles  magnify 
sufficiently  to  show  faults  through  it.  From  under  plain, 
coarse,  and  tattered  garments,  small  vices  peep  out ;  but 
robes  and  splendid  mantles  cover  up  all  sins,  even  great 
ones. 

"  These  same  robes  have  done  me  good  service — hiding 
my  faults  from  others ;  but  they,  nor  vanity,  nor  self-love, 
can  conceal  them  from  my  own  mental  inspection.  When 


THE    N  I  G  H  T     W  A  T  C  H  .  61 

the  mind  is  forced  to  take  cognizance  of  the  heart's  work- 
ings, and  the  still  small  voice  within  says,  'deeper — 
deeper — dive  deeper — look  into,  and  read  what  is  writ- 
ten there.  Self — self — self  Yet  this  does  not  prevent 
conscience  from  discharging  her  duty  faithfully  —  and 
there  is  a  time  when  all  must  listen." 

The  street-door  bell  rings.  She  rises  hurriedly,  and 
shaking  off  those  somber  feelings,  rings  impatiently  for 
her  maid.  When  she  comes,  the  lady  puts  on  the  same 
imperial  manner  with  which  she  had  waved  the  old  lady 
from  the  pew.  The  still  small  voice  is  hushed  now.  It 
is  rarely  listened  to  in  the  crowded  halls. 

"  Ann,  have  the  gentlemen  arrived?  " 

"What  say,  ma'am?" 

She  raves  at  her — "I  say  have  the  gentleman  come  yet? 
You  stupid  dolt,  why  don't  you  answer?  Have  any  of 
the  gentlemen  come  yet?  " 

"  Oh,  oh.  ~No — no,  ma'am,  not  yit — only  Mr.  Gaines, 
what  followed  you  from  the  church." 

The  bell  rings  again. 

"Look,  Ann,"  said  the  beauty,  very  calmly,  for  she 
would  have  considered  that  it  was  compromising  her- 
self to  show  the  least  bit  of  feeling,  save  anger,  before  a 
servant. 

The  girl  returns,  saying,  "  It  aint  nobody  but  Mrs. 
Calderwood  and  her  set." 

"Well,  come  help  me  to  dress,  Ann,"  said  the  lady, 
with  a  weary,  disappointed  look.  "  It  is  very  early ;  I 
wonder  why  these  people  have  forestalled  the  hour  of 
dining.    It  is  quite  annoying,  and  a  great  liberty  to  take." 

"  ISTow,  Miss  Guttrude,  you  know  this  ain't  not  one  of 
the  grand  days  for  grand  dinner  parties.  'Taint  one  of 
the  reg'lar  fine  times  what  we  haves  sometimes.  This  is 
only  Sunday,  and  they  don't  care  much  what  they  do 
here  on  a  Sunday.  We  can't  make  no  great  have-to-do  on 
the  Sabbath,  you  know." 


62  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

The  bell  rings,  rings,  rings — the  lady  seems  slightly 
flurried ;  which  the  negro  marks  down  in  her  tablets. 
u  Go  see  again,  Ann." 

But  before  the  maid  can  obey  her  imperial  mistress, 
there  is  a  rap  at  the  door.    A  footman  enters,  bowing. 

"  Maj.  Lindsay  send  he  compliments  to  you,  ma'am,  and 
beg  you  will  do  him  de  favor  to  give  him  de  pleasure  of 
your  company  in  the  drawing-room,  where  all  the  ladies 
and  gemmen  'sembled,  waiting  the  presence  of  the  queen 
ob  the  'casion." 

She  takes  no  notice  of  this  set  speech,  meant  to  be 
facetious. 

"  Has  Col.  Murray  come  in  yet,  boy?  " 

"  JSTo,  ma'am,  the  Kernel  aint  come  in  yit ;  but  we  'spect 
him  the  very  next  pull." 

"  Tell  my  father,  Eobert,  that  I  am  not  quite  ready — 
will  soon  join  him." 

The  negro  stares  at  her,  seeing  that  her  toilette  is  com- 
pleted, and  she  is  looking  particularly  elegant. 

]N"ow  there  is  another  message  from  Major  Lindsay, 
which  forces  the  lady  to  appear  among  the  guests,  whom 
she  greets  cordially  (although  that  day  she  hates  them 
every  one),  and  then  goes  through  the  intricate  conven- 
tionalities in  the  most  unexceptionable  manner. 

She  smiles,  too ;  and  you  can  not  discover  on  that  smooth 
surface  anything  to  denote  the  troubled  under-current. 
Only  sometimes  a  sudden  raising  of  the  eyes  and  a  quiet 
turning  toward  the  door  as  it  opened  to  admit  guest  after 
guest  on  that  Sunday  afternoon.  There  is  no  nervous 
starting,  no  piercing  glance,  as  if  she  would  rend  the 
oaken  pannels  ere  they  have  time  to  swing  on  their 
smooth  hinges.  She  plays  the  well-bred  lady  to  the  same 
kind  of  audience;  according  to  their  own  code  of  good 
breeding  and  etiquette — which  is  a  constitution  of  forms 
without  feeling,  words  without  meaning,  and  showr  with- 
out substance. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  ()3 

But  he  comes  not !  Mr.  Gaines,  our  quondam  acquaint- 
ance, hands  this  pet  of  society  to  the  head  of  the  splendid 
board.  When  there,  she  acquits  herself  in  the  most 
approved  manner.  He  comes  not !  and  there  is  darkness 
in  her  soul,  but  no  shadow  on  her  brow.  Meantime  they 
chatter  on,  laugh,  discourse  politics,  literature,  fashions, 
the  drama ;  some  Garrick  or  Kemble  in  embryo ;  some 
ephemeral  poet,  or  rather  poetaster ;  then  religion — Oh 
no,  not  religion,  but  the  church,  the  minister,  the  sermon, 
the  congregation,  etc. 

Miss  Lindsay  is  inquired  of  about  the  sermon  ;  the  ques- 
tion is  repeated  ;  she  looks  up,  and  tries  to  recover  herself; 
her  thoughts  are  wandering,  they  are  with  him,  for  still 
"he  comes  not."  She  has  not  heard  one  word  of  the  con- 
versation. She  did  not  hear  that  discourse  from  the 
pulpit,  yet  she  replies  to  the  question, 

"  Oh  !  very  well,  indeed." 

"  Daughter,  what  was  the  text?  "  says  Major  Lindsay. 

She  looks  to  her  friend  on  the  left,  saying,  "  My  father 
is  so  primitive  and  tiresome.  "Who  cares  or  thinks  about 
the  text." 

That  father  is  not  to  be  silenced,  for  he  is  a  Lindsay,  and 
a  Scotchman.  He  repeats  the  question,  slightly  frowning. 
"  I  say,  Gertrude,  what  was  the  text?  " 

Now  that  proud  eye  quails  before  the  stern,  rigid, 
Scotch  brow,  and  she  answers  deprecatingly,  "I  do  not 
know,  papa ;  I  have  forgotten.  I  don't  think  he  stuck  to 
his  text." 

"  You  mean,  you  did  not  take  to  it,  Gertrude.  That's 
about  it." 

The  lady  bit  her  lip,  fiercely.  She  knew  that  she 
always  found  her  match  in  her  father,  at  whatever  game 
they  played.  Lindsay  pitted  against  Lindsay ;  "  Then 
comes  the  tug  of  war." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  matters  much,  Miss  Lindsay,  whether 
you  listened  or  not.    He  was  decidedly  personal  \  and  all 


64 


T  II  E     N  1  G  H  T     W  A  T  C  H  . 


sensible  people  must  pronounce  that  to  be  in  very  bad 
taste,"  rejoined  Mr.  Gaines. 
"  How  so  ?  "  inquired  some  one. 

"  Well,  I  rather  think  so.  He  talked,  you  know,  so 
much  against  the  rich  and  high,  in  this  world,  that  one 
would  almost  conclude,  that  it  was  a  sin  to  be  either  one 
or  the  other.  Then  he  said,  poor  beggars  here,  were  to 
inherit  the  kingdom.  In  conclusion,  he  launched  out  into 
a  long  tirade  about  Dives  and  Lazarus,  and  a  great  deal 
more  which  I  have  forgotten  —  but  I  know  I  thought  him 
very  personal." 

He  stopped  suddenly,  having  received  the  look  which  said 
"  hush,  you  have  talked  enough."  No  worshiper  of  nature 
ever  studied  her  face  more  assiduously,  in  order  to  learn 
the  presage  of  the  weather,  than  did  this  youth  the  coun- 
tenance of  his  mistress,  that  he  might  discern  the  symp- 
toms of  the  coming  storm.  Now  he  sees  a  little  cloud  in 
the  distance,  "Not  larger  than  a  man's  hand ;  "  but  it  is 
there  gathering,  gathering !  He  feels  he  must  abide  it, 
for  it  will  surely  break  over  his  devoted  head,  ere  long. 

Major  Lindsay  is  quick-sighted.  He  sees  that  Gaines 
is  discomfited.  "What  is  it,  Gertrude?  What  does  he 
mean?  "  said  he. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  father  ;  I  heard  nothing  of  the  sort," 
said  she. 

It  happened  that  Dr.  Mercer  had  chosen  for  his  subject 
that  day,  this  short  but  pithy  text,  "  Grind  not  the  faces 
of  the  poor."  In  the  portraiture  of  character,  and  the 
delineation  of  certain  features,  he  did  seem  to  describe  the 
prominent  traits  belonging  to  our  haughty  beauty.  And 
Mr.  Gaines  had  made  the  application  with  great  justice. 
The  doctor  had  witnessed  the  dumb  show  enacted  in  the 
pew  of  the  aristocratic  lady  —  for  millionaires  do  occupy 
high  seats  in  the  church,  as  well  as  in  the  synagogue,  and 
their  actions  are  scanned.  The  good  minister  being 
armed  with  the  sword  of  the  spirit,  did  lay  on  manfully  ; 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


65 


he  generally  wielded  this  weapon  with  great  strength. 
But  to-day  his  thrusts  are  deep.  It  is  also  true,  that 
Master  Shallow,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  Josiah  G-aines,  had 
suffered  himself  to  be  taken  captive  (at  least  his  atten- 
tion), and  so  he  concluded  that  the  person  in  the  sacred 
desk  had  aimed  those  blows  at  his  divinity. 

"What  was  the  text?"  again  asked  the  major,  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Come,  Mrs.  Calderwood ; 
speak,  madam." 

"  Pray,  do  not  ask  me  ;  I  was  too  busy  watching  a  scene 
which  was  being  enacted  just  before  me.  I  could  see  nor 
hear  nothing  else." 

"  What  was  it,  Miss  Emma  ?  "  said  the  jovial  host,  rub- 
bing his  hands. 

"  Indeed,  Major  Lindsay,  I  have  forgotten.  I  did  hear 
it,  and  thought  I  would  mark  it  down  in  my  memory, 
well  knowing  that  you  would  call  on  me  at  dinner  as 
usual ;  but  indeed,  sir,  my  attention  was  so  taken  up  with 
that  beautiful  boy  in  the  next  pew  " 

"  What  was  it,  Calderwood?" 

u  Ah  !  friend  Lindsay,  you  are  too  hard  for  me  now.  In 
truth  I  did  not  hear  it.  /was  watching  Murray,  as  he 
played  the  agreeable  to  an  old  beggar,  whom  he  had 
gathered  somewhere  from  the  hedges  and  highways." 

The  major  continued  thus  to  interrogate  them,  his 
merry  mood  increasing  with  each  one's  discomfiture,  until 
he  rubs  his  hands  together,  and  laughs  with  great  glee. 

"  Well,  upon  my  wrord,  you  pay  our  good  divine  a  high 
compliment.  Each  one  of  you  seems  to  have  had  some- 
thing else  before  you  more  interesting  than  the  preacher 
and  his  subject." 

He  now  turns,  still  chuckling,  to  Mrs.  Green. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you,  madam,  because  I  think  I  know 
what  takes  you  to  church,  and  what  you  always  have 
before  you.  But  suffer  me  to  pass  on  to  my  gentle  friend, 
your  daughter.  Miss  Maiy.  what  did  you  see  right  before 
6 


66 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


you,  to  take  your  mind  off  the  text  ?  Was  it  Mrs.  Calder- 
wood's  scene,  or  Miss  Emma's  cherub,  or  Murray's  play- 
ing Don  Quixotte  to  Calderwood's  pauper,  or  the  grandly 
handsome  colonel,  himself,  or  poor  old  Doctor  Mercer's 
bald  head?" 

"  All,  sir,"  replied  Mary  Green,  blushing. 

u  All  ?    Then  of  course  you  did  not  hear  the  text." 

"  No  :  no,  of  course  not,"  shouted  the  younger  members 
of  the  company. 

uAh!  "cried  Emma,  exultingly;  "Mary  is  defaulter, 
at  last." 

"You  are  all  mistaken,"  added  she,  while  a  beautiful 
carnation  overspread  her  face,  "  I  did  hear." 

"  Then  let  us  hear,"  exclaimed  the  company.  She  is 
silent,  and  her  lids  droop  over  those  plaintive  blue  eyes. 

Her  mother  looks  encouragingly  at  her.  Speak,  my 
love.  Never  be  backward  to  raise  your  voice  in  such  a 
cause." 

When  this  little  stream  of  polite  mirthfulness  has  run 
its  course,  she  looks  up  modestly,  and  says,  "  You  are  all 
mistaken ;  I  do  know.  I  both  heard  and  understood,  and 
now  I  remember  —  but  I  take  no  praise  to  myself  for  this, 
Major,  as  there  was  really  nothing  to  distract  my  atten- 
tion."   She  then  repeated  the  text,  chapter,  and  verse. 

The  major,  seeing  the  company  look  blank,  and  under- 
standing that  there  might  now  ensue  an  awkward  silence, 
added,  "  But  from  your  own  confession,  we  believe  that 
you  saw  all  these  things.  Come,  tell  me  how  you  man- 
aged to  escape  their  influence.  But  first  recount  to  me 
all  about  this  Sunday  drama.  Indeed,  I  should  like  very 
much  to  hear  a  version  of  it,  from  each  member  of  the 
board.  I  only  premise  that  you  shall  be  sworn  as  usual, 
to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth." 

This  was  unanimously  agreed  to  ;  and  Mrs.  Calderwood 
being  the  first  lady  on  the  right,  is  first  called  on. 


T  m  E     NIGH  T     W  A  T  0  H  H7 

"  I  had  taken  my  seat,"  says  the  lady,  "  after  getting 
through  with  the  first  prayers,  when  there  comes  hobbling 
up  the  aisle,  a  miserable,  mean,  hag-looking,  old  woman, 
and  takes  her  seat  in  " 

A  violent  pressure  on  the  toe  causes  her  to  stop,  and 
look  up  at  the  beautiful  hostess  ;  she  meets  that  glance 
which,  like  an  electric  shock,  is  felt  and  understood.  Then 
all  is  again  bland  and  smiling;  but  the  eyes  smile  only; 
the  rich  vermilion  lips  are  compressed  so  tightly  between 
those  pearly  teeth,  that  presently,  when  she  is  compelled 
to  open  them  to  reply  to  Mrs.  Calderwood's  "  Did  you 
speak  to  me,  Miss  Lindsay  ?  "  they  are  covered  with  blood. 
And  now  the  lips  essay  to  wreathe  themselves  into  a  like 
expression. 

Mrs.  C.  has  taken  the  hint,  and  not  a  word  about  the 
pew  escapes  her;  she  only  adds,  "  She  was  an  impertinent, 
and  hateful-looking  old  wretch." 

Emma  looked  around  as  she  exclaimed,  u  Oh  !  mamma, 
don't  say  that ;  she  made  no  such  impression  on  me.  I 

only  noticed  how  hurt  she  looked  when  she  was  told  " 

a  pinch  on  the  arm  arrests  her,  and  she  ended  by  saying, 
curtly  enough,  "  I  mean,  I  was  so  engrossed  with  the  beau- 
tiful boy." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Green,  we  will  take  your  deposition." 

"  I  did  not  see  anything  of  all  this.  I  saw  no  beggar 
so  loathsome,  nor  boy  so  supernaturally  beautiful." 

"Miss  Mary,  Miss  Mary,  we  want  your  testimony. 
What  did  you  see?" 

"  I  saw  what  our  friends  here  have  deposed  to  ;  besides, 
I  saw,  as  you  say,  Doctor  Mercer's  bald  head  and  my 
prayer  book,  which  I  think  they  did  not  see.  Then  I 
saw  a  pale,  feeble-looking  old  lady  and  a  sweet  child  get 
up,  as  if  they  would  leave  the  church,  and  walk  down  the 
long  aisle.  The  old  lady  tottered,  and  leaned  on  the  shoul- 
der of  the  bright,  beautiful  boy,  as  if  scarce  able  to  stand 
without  this  little  support.    Then  I  saw  Colonel  Murray 


68  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

follow,  and  having  overtaken  them,  he  bowTs  to  the  old  lady 
as  if  she  had  been  Yictoria  or  Miss  Lindsay.  After  whieh, 
they  all  returned  together,  and  were  seated  in  the  colo- 
nel's pew,  where  they  sat  quite  still,  seeming  to  be  wholly 
engrossed  with  the  service,  and  afterward  absorbed  in  the 
sermon.    Then  I  " 

"  That  will  do,  my  dear.  Major  Lindsay  only  wants  to 
see  how  differently  different  persons  see  the  same  objects. 
Yes,  and  now  I  insist  on  hearing  what  you  yourself  saw." 

"Well,  to  begin,  I  did  not  see  any  old  hag  hobbling  up 
the  aisle ;  nor  did  I  see  anywhere  in  that  house  any  one 
resembling  a  pauper.  All  these  novelties  in  Doctor  Mer- 
cer's church  I  missed.  But  I  saw  a  plainly  dressed,  but 
strictly  decent  old  lady.  True,  her  shawl  was  faded,  and 
her  bonnet  seemed  to  have  been  made  acquainted  with 
narrow  places.  But  her  countenance  was  placid,  and 
revealed,  no  doubt,  what  her  heart  felt,  religion  and  love 
to  Christ.  No  one  can  look  abject  to  my  eyes,  who  bears 
that  seal." 

"  Whose  pew  did  she  leave?  "  asked  Lindsay 

No  reply. 

It  is  repeated. 

Silence  still.    The  red  spot  is  on  the  proud  lady's  cheek, 
and  her  pearly  teeth  are  again  discolored  with  a  deeper  hue. 
A  servant  hands  his  master  a  note,  which  he  reads  aloud  : 

"  Col.  Murray  hopes  his  friend,  Maj.  Lindsay,  will 
excuse  his  absence  from  his  hospitable  board  to-day. 
Unforeseen  circumstances  cause  his  non-attendance.  Ac- 
cept his  regrets.  Eespectfully, 

C.  C.  Murray." 

u  Well,  this  is  as  cool  as  the  day,  and  as  short  as  your 
pie-crust,  Gertrude.  Did  you  see  and  speak  with  him 
to-day,  daughter?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  spoke  to  him,  the  morning  salutations 
merely,  in  passing." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  69 

"  Come,  pass  the  wine,  Gaines.  Ladies,  here  is  hoping 
we  may  have  the  pleasure  of  passing  together  many  more 
such  Sundays."  Gertrude  quietly  sets  down  the  glass,  the 
wine  untasted. 

They  now  adjourn  to  the  drawing-room  ;  as  the  gentle- 
men are  not  invited  to  linger  over  their  cups  ;  this  making 
the  only  difference  between  that  and  other  festive  days. 

Maj.  Lindsay  is  a  Scotchman  by  birth,  and  left  Edin- 
burgh when  a  mere  youth.  He  seems  to  have  lost  all  recol- 
lection of  the  Presbyterian  mode  of  Sabbath  -  keeping 
there.  His  sojourn  in  the  United  States,  and  his  residence 
principally  in  Southern  cities,  had  obliterated  all  fervent 
love  for  kirk  ;  and  now  he  and  his  family  show  themselves 
once  on  every  Sunday  at  church;  then  go  home  and  pass 
the  day  as  above  described.  He  has  many  of  the  national 
traits  of  the  Scot  f  is  rather  cold  and  somewhat  stern; 
unbending  and  unflinching  where  duty  is  recognized,  des- 
titute of  all  vanity,  somewhat  selfish,  has  that  sort  of 
pride  which  places  him  above  the  possibility  of  doing  a 
mean  or  a  little  action.  He  might  be  moved  to  commit  a 
crime  on  a  grand  scale  —  at  least  there  are  circumstances 
wThich  would  extenuate  a  great  fault  —  but  never  a  petty 
one.  He  could  not  pardon  a  mean  act  or  a  petty  cruelty. 
He  would  also  have  gone  to  the  stake  for  religion  or  con- 
science sake,  provided  there  was  a  showing  of  maganim- 
ity  or  sublimity  in  the  action.  But  he  knew  nothing  of 
those  quiet  virtues  which  win  their  way  and  are  always 
ready  for  use.  He  only  felt  the  impulse  to  practice  such 
as  walked  abroad  at  noonday.  Still  he  was  immeasura- 
bly better  than  his  beautiful  daughter,  even  in  such  graces 
as  should  adorn  the  female  character.  Hence  the  dread 
the  lady  felt  to  have  her  conduct  known  to  her  father. 

The  company  now  all  dispersed  to  their  respective  places 
of  abode,  where  we  will  presently  pay  each  one  a  visit 
after  they  have  taken  off  their  masks. 


70 


THE    NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DIVERS    SCENES    IN    SUNDRY  PLACES. 

"  0,  many  a  shaft  at  random  sent, 
Finds  mark  the  archer  never  meant ; 
And  many  a  word  at  random  spoken, 
May  soothe  or  bruise  the  heart  that's  broken." 

Three  persons  are  sitting  together  in  a  handsome  and 
comfortable  parlor,  the  hour  being  nine  o'clock,  p.  m  :  an 
exceedingly  handsome  man,  a  sweet  Hebe-looking  child, 
and  a  precise,  rather  fantastic  lady,  somewhat  passed  mid- 
dle age,  of  medium  size,  and  possessing  traces  of  rare 
beauty  even  at  the  present  time.  This  lady  is  dressed  in 
the  hight  of  the  fashion,  with  great  care  and  some  taste. 
The  clever  ones  have  reported  her  to  be  sixty  or  more, 
but  this  evening  she  is  looking  about  forty  years  old. 
Yet  she  is  the  true  mother  of  that  magnificently  dark  and 
grandly  handsome  man,  and  the  grandmother  of  the  pretty 
sylph-like  creature,  Genevieve  Murray.  The  child  is  sit- 
ting on  her  father's  knee,  with  one  little,  plump,  white 
arm  twined  around  his  neck,  while  with  the  other  dim- 
pled, baby  hand  she  is  playing  with  those  rich  clustering 
curls  as  black  as  the  sloe ;  ever  and  anon  burying  the  same 
little  rosy  tips  in  his  luxuriant  whiskers  and  moustache. 
Sweet  prattler. 

"  Papa,  why  don't  you  look  at  me  sometimes?  Aint  I 
as  pretty  as  the  fire?  Look  at  me,  papa,  pray  do,  instead 
of  always  watching  the  red  hot  coals.  I  wonder  that  ter- 
rible blazing  fire  don't  melt  your  eyes,  papa.  Tivvysays 
when  we  die,  that  we've  all  got  to  lie  down  in  a  hot  bed 
of  coals  for  awhile.    Oh  !  papa,  aint  that  scary  ?  " 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


71 


He  heeds  not  that  sweet  little  mouth,  as  it  lisps  out  those 
words  ;  his  mind  seems  to  be  closed,  and  thought  has 
given  place  to  memory  —  the  mind's  mirror,  wherein 
sometimes  fearful  things  are  reflected.  See  how  that 
fine  face  is  marred,  look  how  those  perfectly  defined 
arches  are  contracted,  how  that  smooth  and  expansive 
forehead  is  corrugated  with  lines  drawn  in  it  by  inten- 
sified feeling. 

The  lady  across  the  table  is  reading  (or  seeming  to)  by 
a  splendid  burner,  whose  light  is  brought  down  to  her 
through  a  handsome  gilt  tube.  She  asserts  herself  to  be 
near ,  or  short  sighted.  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  that's  the  way  when 
ladies  arrive  at  a  certain  age,  or  no  age;  they  are  apt  to 
grow  short-sighted.  A  costly  eye-glass,  depending  from 
a  Maltese  chain  of  exquisite  workmanship,  is  held  to  her 
eyes.  She  seems  to  experience  a  sort  of  unrest,  which 
induces  a  constant  looking  away  from  her  book,  to  gaze 
on  her  son,  who  still  sits  there  with  the  little  girl  in  his 
arms,  sunk  in  revery. 

A  servant  enters  and  hands  him  a  letter.  He  puts  down 
the  child,  approaches  the  table,  and  reads  it.  Now  a  still 
darker  and  more  lowering  cloud  o'erspreads  his  face. 

"  Murray,  why  did  you  not  dine  with  Major  Lindsay, 
on  last  Sunday,  as  usual?"  says  his  mother,  looking 
sharply  at  him. 

"  I  could  not,  madam,"  answered  the  son,  with  a  very 
freezing  look. 

The  mother  knew  there  was  no  appeal  from  that  look. 
All  the  avenues  of  information  were  then  closed. 

He  rings  the  bell,  and  when  his  servant  appears,  orders 
his  cloak,  cane,  and  cap.  When  he  has  received  them 
from  the  boy  he  leaves  the  house. 


72 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Major  Lindsay  throws  down  his  newspaper,  as  Ann, 
the  lady's  maid  enters. 

"  Ask  your  young  mistress  to  do  me  the  favor  to  come 
down.    I  am  waiting  to  see  her." 

The  girl  hesitates,  and  the  major,  stamping  his  foot, 
rips  out  a  heathenish  sort  of  oath,  and  bids  her  begone. 

In  the  meantime,  he  walks  up  and  down  that  large 
room,  muttering  to  himself,  "  I  had  well  nigh  forgotten ; 
I  must  find  out  what  all  this  talk  is  about.  A  feeble  old 
woman  being  turned  out  of  a  pew.  I  thought  Gertrude 
evinced  some  feeling ;  a  great  deal  for  her,  even  through 
that  iron  mask  which  she  puts  on  sometimes,  when  she 
wishes  to  conceal  wrhat  she  is  thinking  about  —  what  wrong 
she  has  been  perpetrating  against  some  poor  body.  But 
I  trust  no  daughter  of  mine  could  have  been  guilty  of 
this  exercise  of  petty  power.  Confusion  seize  me  !  but  I 
could  not  forgive  this  mean  arrogance,  because  of  fortuit- 
ous advantage  over  the  feeble  and  indigent.  Aye,  yes,  I 
remember ;  Murray  failed  to  escort  her  to  church,  and 
did  not  call  on  Saturday  evening.  Disappointments  never 
fail  to  rouse  the  tiger  in  her  naturally  savage  nature. 
Well!  she  can't  help  it  —  nature  is  nature,  after  all  your 
training;  and  she  inherits  the  wTorst  qualities  of  both 
father  and  mother.  What  could  be  expected  from  the 
issue  of  such  a  marriage.  A  true  Scot,  driven  by  his 
desperate  fortunes  to  woo  and  wed  an  English  heiress, 
who,  on  her  part,  marries  for  social  position ;  neither  of 
us  having  chosen  the  other,  at  least  as  far  as  the  election 
of  the  heart  tells.  The  simple  truth  of  the  business  is 
this :  the  poor  child  was  born  too  soon  after  our  disen- 
chantment ;  when  those  great  scales  had  but  just  fallen 
from  our  eyes,  and  we  were  forced  to  contemplate  each 
other  after  the  masks  were  laid  aside  —  to  view  our  real 
and  secret  natures.  I  must  bear  w^ith  her.  Many  of  her 
faults  are  by  entail ;  she  can  not  part  with  them  if  she 
would." 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


73 


The  girl  returns ;  the  major  meeting  her  at  the  door, 
frowning.    Ann  stammers  out, 

"  Sir,  Miss  Guttrude  say,  she  hope  you  will  'scuse  her 
dis  evenin',  for  she  aint  not  well.  She  say,  she  feel  much 
predisposed,  and  her  head  gwine  to  'vide  right  into  two 
halfs." 

He  passes  on  with  the  same  measured  tread ;  adding, 
fit  is  better  so;  all  right.  Girl,  tell  your  mistress,  good 
night,  and  adieu.  We  had  better  not  meet  to  night, 
that's  clear.  I  will  talk  it  over  with  her  to-morrow, 
perhaps." 


It  is  nine  o'clock,  a.  m.  Sw^eet  Mary  Green  is  occu- 
pied as  all  sweet  Marys,  who  have  ever  lived,  would  like 
to  be.  She  is  seated  in  their  small,  neat,  plain  parlor,  the 
surroundings  of  which  give  promise  of  ease  and  comfort 
only. 

A  young  man  of  pleasing  appearance,  and  debonair 
address,  is  by  her  side.  They  have  been  conversing  for  a 
long  time  in  a  soft,  low  tone  of  voice,  not  louder  than  the 
gentle  ripple  of  the  still  waters,  when  stirred  by  the  light 
evening  breeze.  He  presses  her  taper  fingers,  which 
sends  the  subtle  fluid  through  every  avenue  to  the  heart; 
and  with  eyes  and  lips  is  pleading  his  cause.  Sweet  Mary 
Green  blushes,  and  is  silent.  I  believe,  in  such  matters 
not  to  dissent  is  to  assent.  Is  it  not  so,  my  young  lady 
reader  ? 

Now,  all  such  interviews  are  only  interesting  and  pre- 
cious to  the  parties  concerned.  We  will  therefore  close 
our  ears  to  their  plaintive  murmurings,  the  soft  rustlings 
of  the  boy-god's  wings. 


In  the  same  neighborhood,  the  same  hour,  and  self-same 
moment,  the  following  dialogue  is  going  on : 
7 


74  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

"Well,  papa,  I  confess  I  did  recognize  the  child,  and 
the  old  lady,  too ;  but  somehow  I  felt  unwilling  to  have 
them  brought  forward,  there  at  that  table,  to  be  carved 
up,  as  I  knew  they  would  be,  if  the  company  had  known 
that  they  were  the  inmates  of  the  hovel,  and  related  to 
that  charming,  delectable,  superhuman ly  elegant,  trans- 
cendently  beautiful  young  woman.  O  papa  !  if  you  could 
only  have  seen  her  yesterday,  when  she  smiled  on  me.  I 
was  electrified.  I  can  think  of  no  similitude  in  all  nature 
by  which  I  can  place  her  before  you.  There  is  not  a 
flower  that  will  do.  Koses,  and  peach-blossoms,  and 
moonlight,  and  sunbeams,  and  dewdrops,  and  diamonds, 
and  pearls,  and  everything  else,  combined  and  amalga- 
mated into  one  blaze  of  glory,  could  not,  I  know,  papa, 
convey  to  you  the  same  impression  as  did  that  radiant 
smile  to  me  —  that  one  gleam  of  hope,  as  it  struggled  its 
way  up,  from  the  poor,  stricken  heart,  to  the  face  of 
divine  beauty." 

"  I  should  think  not,  daughter ;  for  all  those  beautiful 
and  bright  things  thrown  pell-mell,  and  as  you  say,  blent 
into  one,  w^ould  form  an  unseemly  mass.  But  when  will 
you  take  me  to  see  this  nonpareil  of  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Sometime  soon,  I  hope,  sir  ;  but  she  has  never  told 
me.  When  I  urge  it  now,  she  only  smiles  sadly  and 
says,  1  My  drawing-rooms  are  not  quite  ready.  When 
they  are  in  order  to  receive  stylish,  fashionable  visitors, 
I  will  let  you  know;'  and  so  she  puts  me  off  from  time  to 
time." 

"  S'death  !  but  that's  temptiDg.  I  like  a  thing  of  that 
sort.  Gods  !  how  it  inflames  a  fellow — that  sort  of  quaint 
chariness!  " 

"  What  did  you  say,  papa?  I  do  not  understand  you. 
What  is  it,  sir?" 

"  God  forbid  you  should,  (aside).  Oh,  nothing,  daughter, 
go  on.    What  else?" 

"  Nothing  else,  sir,  I  had  ceased  speaking." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


75 


"  Well,  1  don't  think  mamma  ever  surmised  who  they 
were." 

"  Certainly  not ;  had  she  done  so,  that  house  would  not 

have  held  her,  and  then  she  would  have  given  me  h  

as  soon  as  we  reached  home."  Emma  put  her  hand  over 
her  father's  mouth. 

"  Come,  papa,  I  do  not  want  any  flowers  of  rhetoric 
to-night.  Listen,  hist !  hist !  let  us  do  so  for  our  own 
edification,  papa." 

"My  dear  Jones,  did  you  notice  that  look  of  Miss  Lind- 
say when  her  father  read  the  note  from  that  cold,  haughty, 
hateful  Colonel  Murray?" 

"  I  guess  I  did ;  and  Mis  Callerwood,  did  you  see  how 
she  bit  her  lips,  and  turned  pale,  then  red,  then  white 
again?" 

"You  better  believe  I  saw  it  all,  and  more,  too." 
"Do  tell!"  rejoined  Miss  Nancy,  unable  to  sit  still,  so 
keen  was  becoming  her  enjoyment  of  the  subject. 

"Do  you  think,  Jones,  that  they'll  ever  be  married?" 
"Who,  ma'am?" 

"  Pshaw  !  I  thought  you  understood  ;  we  were  talking 
about  Miss  Lindsay  and  Colonel  Murray." 

"  Oh,  true  !  but  the  Lord  knows  I  don't.  But  they  do 
say  " 

"  Oh  hush,  Jones ;  don't  keep  telling  me  what  they  do 
say — tell  me  what  you  know." 

"Do  tell!  I  never  see  sich  a  woman.  She'll  ask  ten 
thousand  questions,  but  if  you  jest  take  up  time  to  response 
to  one,  she'll  fly  off  the  helm.''' 

"  Come,  Jones,  don't  be  a  fool ;  you  know  I  have  been 
your  friend  through  thick  and  thin,  so  put  up." 

"  I  always  do  put  up.  I've  put  up  with  everything  till 
I  can't  stand  it  no  longer.  Next  you'll  be  telling  me  to 
put  out,  and  I'll  be  sure  to  do  it ;  so  I  will." 

Miss  Nancy  had  wrought  herself  into  a  towering  pas- 


76  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

sion.  Her  little  twinkling,  coal-black  eyes  snapped;  her 
lips,  which  were  always  white,  just  then  became  blue,  and 
she  involuntarily  clenched  her  teeth  and  her  fists ;  but 
when  she  saw  Mrs.  Calderwood  bridle  up,  and  set  her 
head  on  one  side,  closing  the  opposite  eye,  she  knew  then 
the  time  had  come  ;  and  if  she  did  not  speedily  recant,  the 
game  would  be  up. 

"  Well,  Miss  Jones,  I  wonder  who  would  be  looser 
thereby  ?  I  want  you  to  decide  that  case,  and  inform  me 
speedily,"  and  her  big,  pale,  blue  eyes  glared — they  never 
could  flash,  you  know. 

"God  bless  my  dear  Mis  Callerwood.  Why  I  was  just 
a-joking.  I  havn't  no  idea  of  doing  nothing  at  all  in  the 
wide,  wide,  world,"  said  the  toady,  in  an  humble,  fawning 
voice.  Seeing  that  the  lady  was  not  yet  propitiated,  and 
fearing  that  her  feline  propensities  were  being  roused  (for 
she  rapidly  passed  her  thumb  over  the  end  of  every 
finger-nail  as  if  feeling  their  pointedness  and  potency), 
she  adds  hurriedly,  with  feigned  showing  of  importance 
and  mystery, 

"  But  Callerwood,  I  believe  I  never  told  you.  No,  I 
swore  I  would  lock  it  all  up  in  my  bosom  of  bosoms,  and 
then  throw  away  the  key." 

"  What!  what  is  it,  Jones?"  (A  laugh  from  the  hus- 
band.) 

Every  vestige  of  anger  had  now  disappeared, — all  swal- 
lowed up  in  her  insatiable  love  of  gossip  and  desire  to 
hear  scandal. 

"  Come  now,  Jones?"  and  she  laid  her  arm  around  her 
scraggy  neck  caressingly. 

"  Can't  do  it,  Mis  Callerwood.  I  reckon  I  hadn't 
ought  to  ;  I'm  bound  up  so  tight." 

u  Humph  !  God  knows  you  look  like  it,  you  d — d  old 
mummy,  you!  "  exclaimed  Calderwood,  and  Emma  again 
places  her  hand  on  his  mouth. 

"Well,  Jones,  Em  bound,  too,  to  hear  that." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


77 


"How!  you  don't  say  so?    Then  I  reckon  we  may's 
well  just  talk  it  all  over  together." 
"  Well,  I  think  so,  Jones." 

"I  had  been  way  down  to  the  t'other  eend  of  Chesnut, 
to  see  again  about  getting  that  skuirt  quilted." 

"  Oh  !  the  fiends  take  the  skirt ;  go  on." 

"  Well,  Mis  Callerwood,  who  told  you,  any  how?" 

"  Go  on,  Jones,"  says  Mrs.  Calderwood,  now  trembling 
with  eagerness. 

"  As  I  was  a  saying,  I  went  down  to  the  fur  end  of 
Chesnut  to  get  that  sku  " 

"  Confound  Chesnut  and  that  old  petticoat  too  !  Jones, 
I  will  not  talk  to  you,  if  you  don't  stick  more  to  the  text." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  text,  Mis  Callerwood?"  An  im- 
patient wave  of  the  hand,  a  sudden  starting  to  the  floor, 
and  a  very  lady-lika  stamping  of  the  foot,  brings  poor  old 
Miss  Nancy  back  to  the  point,  and  reseats  her,  for  she  had 
been  raised  quite  out  of  her  chair  by  that  little  whirl- 
wind. As  meekly  now  as  a  martyr  she  relates,  while  the 
lady  as  greedily  drinks  in,  the  poison. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  coming  back,  I  calls  to  see  Moggy  Ann 

Carns.     I  wanted  to  git  her  to  "     Another  frown 

from  Mrs.  C.  "'Well,'  says  Moggy  Ann,  'Miss  Jones, 
did  you  hear  what  a  quarrel  Gertrude  Lindsay  and  Colo- 
nel Murray  has  had  ?  '  '  No,  dear,'  says  I,  i  I  haint  heerd 
a  word  on  the  subject.  What  is  it,  dear  Moggy  ?  '  1  Oh,' 
says  she,  1  I'm  afeardto  tell  ye,  I  swore  on  the  kiver  of  the 
Bible.  You  see  the  leaves  was  all  burnt  up  long  ago, 
'cause  Tom  Truman,  my  last  sweetheart,  went  and  exam- 
ined the  family  record,  and  seen  our  ages  ;  so  sister  burnt 
up  all  the  in'ards  of  the  book,  but  for  myself,  I  didn't — '  " 

"  Fool !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  C.  with  an  uncontrollable  burst 
of  impatient  rage. 

Miss  Nancy  folded  her  arms,  and,  with  Moses-like  meek- 
ness went  on  — 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  she  said  she  was  swore  on  the 


78 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


lids  of  the  Bible,  that  she  wouldn't  tell  nobody,  and  then 
she  sorter  swore  me,  but  as  you've  been  bound  up  too, 
jist  like  myself,  we'll  talk  it  over  together." 

"  Go  on  !  "  now  screamed  Mrs.  Calderwood,  almost 
beside  herself. 

"  Ann,  Gertrude's  maid,  come  t'other  day  for  that  blue 
satin  dress,  and  when  she  got  it,  she  kept  a  kind  o'  linger- 
ing and  loitering  like.  So  it  struck  me  she  had  some- 
thing on  her  mind.  'Ann,'  says  I,  'when  is  your  mis- 
tress going  to  get  married  ?  ' 

" 1  Well,  now,  Miss  Moggy,  dat's  more  'an  dis  nigger  is 
able  to  say  jest  now.  I  begin  to  think  never.'  Then  she 
comes  close  up  to  Moggy  and  whispers, '  Dat  Colonel  Mur- 
ray don't  love  Miss  Guttrude ;  he  neber  did,  and  neber 
will ;  dat's  de  way  to  tell  it.  You  remembers  las'  Sunday, 
don't  you,  Miss  Moggy  ?  Well,  did  you  know  dat  ev'ry 
Sabbat  day,  de  Lord's  good  day,  we  has  dinner  party  at 
our  house  ?  and  de  'mestics  and  waiters  can't  get  to  go  to 
de  Mefodist  chaplain  to  hear  dat  dear,  miserable-looking 
man  perclaim  de  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  what  you'd 
never  think  was  glad  tidings,  he  say  'em  so  mournful 
like.' 

"  'Go  on,  Ann,  that's  a  good  girl,'  says  Moggy. 

" '  Well,  dat  last  dinner,  'most  a  week  ago,  after  all  de 
comp'ny  leaved,  I  was  in  de  back  parlor,  and  dey  in  de 
front.  I  kept  as  still  as  any  hoppergrass,  so  dat  I  might 
listen  good.  I  hear  Miss  Guttrude  say,  in  a  low  and  trim- 
bly  voice,  "  Murray,  what  has  come  over  you  ?  You  is  so 
cold  and  distantful  tome  of  late?"  Den  de  colonel  get 
up,  and  say  he  must  wifdraw.' 

"  '  But  first,  what  did  he  say  ?  9  eagerly  inquired  Moggy. 

"  '  He  spoked  not  a  word,  but  like  a  dumb  brute  before 
de  shearers,  he  jis  opened  his  lips.' 

"  '  Then  what  did  he  say?  '  reiterated  Moggy  Ann. 

"  '  Why,  didn't  I  tell  you,  he  speaked  not  a  word.' 

"  1  But  you  said  he  opened  his  lips,  didn't  you  ?  ' 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH . 


79 


" 1  Lor'  !  no  I  didn't;  I  said  the  dumb  beast  'fore  de 
shearers  opened  dar  lips.  O  mercy  !  O  mercy !  How 
ignorous  white  folks  is,  any  how.  Dey  hardly  eve  does 
know  de  word  o'  God.' 

u  '  Go  on,  Ann,'  says  Moggy,  for,  like  you,  Mis  Caller- 
wood,  she  was  anxious  to  git  to  the  sequence. 

f j 1  Well,  den  she  take  his  hand,  and  she  look  up  in  he 
whiskers  and  sigh,  and  groan,  and  say,  weeping,  "  Oh  ! 
monda-Dieu  !  I  has  live  one  day  too  long  !  Conrad,  you 
don't  love  me  !  What  has  I  did,  that  you  is  so  much  es- 
tranged away  from  me  ?  "  ' 

"  < Then  what?  Do  pray,  go  on,  Ann,'  said  Moggy 
Ann. 

"  '  He  git  right  up,  and  say  he  must  retire.  So  he  takes 
her  hand,  and  say  good-night.  But  presently  he  stoop 
down  and  kiss  her  one,  two,  tree  times.  Den  he  face  flush 
up,  and  he  eyes  blttze,  and  de  big  veins  swell  so  in  he 
forehead  dat  dey  look  like  young  ropes  ;  and  I  swear  to 
you,  Miss  Moggy  Ann,  I  thought  Miss  Gutty  was  gwine 
to  die  of  gladness.  Ah !  but,  Miss  Moggy  Ann,  white 
man  mighty  unsartain.  Dey  aint  constant  and  true  in 
dar  loves ;  and  dat  I  do  know  for  myself,  nigger  as  I  is.' 

"  '  Well,  what  then  ?  what  followed  ?  '  said  Moggy. 

u  £  Why,  nothing  didn't  follow.  Dat  de  last  time  she 
ever  see  him.  Ah  !  I  tell  you,  white  man  is  so  slippery 
and  so  full  of  dissembilation.  Miss  Gutty  'spect  him  to 
come  to  go  with  her  to  church,  accordin'  to  pintment,  but 
s-h-e  w-a-i-t !  s-h-e  w-a  i-t!  After  awhile  he  come 
not  at  all,  and  she  go  off  by  herself  wid  Mr.  Gaines ;  but 
she  d-a-t  mad  !  Whew !  how  mad  she  was.  I  hear  no 
more.  But  I  got  my  eye  and  my  ear  open.'  £  And  mouth 
too,  said  Moggy,'  parenthetically. 

u  i  Go  on,  Ann  dear !  What  comes  next?' 

u  {  Oh,  nothing  did'nt  come  next ;  dey  did'nt  have  no 
next.  But,  from  what  I  hear,  Miss  Gutty  made  him  mad. 
Sompin  'bout  an  old  beggar  'oman  at  church.' 


80 


THE    NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  II 


"  6  So  he  didn't  come  that  afternoon/  says  Moggy. 

"'No,  m-a-m,  he  didn't;  nor  that  night;  nor  never 
since.  In  fact,  he  haint  come  yit,  and  I  don't  believe  he's 
ever  gwine  to  come  agin.' 

"  '  Oh/  says,  Moggy  (who  is  very  tender  hearted),  'that 
is  too  cruel.    How  does  she  stand  it,  Ann  ?  ' 

"  '  Well !  she  never  do  tell  her  grief  nor  her  love ;  hut 
jis  lets  it,  like  a  worm  in  de  core  of  an  apple,  feed  on  her 
damaged  cheek,  and  sits  dar,  while  a  green  an'  sickly 
melancholy  does  her  dat  way,  as  "  Will  Hatspear"  says.' 
(Ann  was  a  constant  attendant  at  the  theater,  and  a 
special  admirer  of  the  divine  Shakspeare.) 

"'Is  that  all?' 

"  i  Not  quite.  She  writ  a  letter  to  him  the  other  night. 
De  letter  was  blistered  wid  bitter,  salt  tears.  She  give  it 
to  me,  'cause  she  know  she  can  trus'  me.  She  tell  me  to 
hang  about  the  door  till  he  come  out,  and  then  follow  him, 
and  bring  him  to  her,  if  I  wants  my  poor  young  mistis 
to  live.  But  —  God  brass  your  soul,  Miss  Moggy  —  I 
stand  dar  till  I  can't  keep  my  limbs  from  chattering  and 
my  teeth  from  quaking  wid  cold.  Presently  he  come 
out,  all  muffled  up  so,  dat  de  Devil  himself  wouldn't  know 
him.  But  instead  of  taking  de  street  to  our  house,  he 
strike  down  nine  or  ten  squares.  I  all  dat  time  creep  'long 
behind  him.  After  awhile  he  stop  before  a  little  m-e-a-n- 
looking  house  ;  den  he  walk  up  and  down  many  times ; 
after  which,  he  plant  hisself  before  the  lamp-post,  and 
look  like  he  gazing  into  the  old  window.  Just  den  de 
"Watch  comes  'long,  and  seize  hold  o'  me  :  but  I  knows  dat 
man  ;  so  I  shows  him  my  face ;  den  he  cuss  me,  and  ax 
me  what  Devil's  arrand  I  on  now.  I  pint  to  Col.  Mur- 
ray—  and  burst  out  into  a  loud  whisperin  giggle;  and 

when  Murdoch  sees  what  I  pint  at,  he  says — "Yes,  d  

him,  he's  there  again,  is  he  ?  "  So  I  broke  oif  and  run'd 
home  —  and  found  Miss  Gutty  dressed,  sitting  up  waiting 
for  de  Col.  —  he  !  he  !  he  !    And  dat's  all.' 


T  H  E    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  II  . 


81 


"  {  Oh !  Lors  a  mercy !  I've  been  here  four  hours.  Miss 
G-uttrude  '11  kill  me  !    Miss  Moggy  ' 

"  <  Oh,  never  fear  Ann ;  you  know  too  many  of  her 
secrets.  You  might  do  just  what  you  have  a  mind  to.  If 
you'll  manage  your  cards  right,  you  can  git  your  free- 
dom.' 

"  £  Oh,  I  don't  want  dat.  I'm  a  thousand  times  better 
off  dan  any  free  nigger,  and  a  million  of  times  more 
'spectable.  And  now,  Miss  Moggy  you  must  take  a  sol- 
emn oaph  on  de  Bible.' 

"  *  Oh,  never  mind,  Ann,  I'm  not  going  to  betray  your 
confidence.' 

£C <  Git  de  Eible,  else  I  won't  tell  you  what  passed  sence, 
betwixt  Miss  Guttrude  and  dat  traitorsome  colonel.' 

"  So  that  made  Moggy  get  them  lids  of#the  Bible,  and 
Ann  put  her  through  the  oath,  thinking  it  was  a  valid 
oath,  and  a  sure-'nough  book." 

"  Well,  what  more,  Jones?  " 

"  Not  another  word  would  Ann  utter,  but  broke  right 
off,  notwithstanding  Moggy  coaxed  her,  and  offered  to 
pay  her." 

Mrs.  Calderwood  drew  a  long  breath,  for  so  intensified 
had  been  her  enjoyment,  so  rapt  her  attention,  that  she 
had  not  ventured  to  respire  freely,  lest  she  should  inter- 
rupt that  which  by  long  indulgence  had  become  the  ali- 
ment of  her  nature. 

u  Well,  now  I  declare,  Jones,  this  is  something  worth 
listening  to." 

"  I  think,  Jones,  it  is  the  most  remarkable  thing  of  the 
age,  how  that  old,  patched-up,  pasted  over,  braided,  and 
painted  up  mother  of  his  has  so  got  the  upper  hand  of 
that  cold,  stern,  proud  man.  She  winds  him  up  like  a 
watch  or  a  clock,  they  tell  me."  * 

u  Yes,  Mis  Callerwood,  but  they  do  say  that  that  old 
woman  possesses  some  charms  or  conjurations;  any  how, 
some  sort  o'  subtly  arts ;  for  they  tell  me — I  don't  know 


82 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


nothing  about  it  myself — but  they  say  that  she  always 
carries  her  pint,  and  that  she  can  coax  or  scold,  or  scare 
that  nasty,  arrogant,  hateful  man  into,  or  out  of,  any  plan 
or  prospect  of  his  life  whenever  she  pleases.  And  she, 
too,  the  oldest,  the  ugliest,  and  madest  up  creature  that 
ever  I  saw." 

Then  they  both  laughed  a  little,  mean,  sniggering  laugh, 
and  "  d  em  "  was  heard  from  across  the  way, 

u  Papa,  did  you  ever  hear  or  see  anything  like  the  gusto 
with  which  mamma  and  Miss  Nancy  have  served  up  every- 
body's  reputation  to-night?" 

u  Yes,  my  love,  and  their  appetites  are  growing  keener 
every  hour." 

"  But,  papa,  why  use  such  ugly,  profane  language  before 
your  little  daughter  ?  I'll  bet  you  my  diamond  ring  that 
when  I  take  you  to  see  my  glorious  Grecian  statue,  you 
wrill  never  think  of  devil,  or  damnation  either,  in  her 
presence." 

"  Emma,  I  love  you  more  than  all  the  world  besides, 
Tjid  I  never  mean  to  wound  or  maltreat  you  ;  but,  d  

child,  here  at  home,  where  your  mother  and  that  old 
are,  I  always  find  something  suggestive  of  those 
„0^.  Perhaps  if  I  were  there,  I  should  only  think  of 
fairies,  and  goddesses,  and  Cupid's  court." 

"  You  would  think,  papa,  of  angels  and  seraphims,  and 
good  spirits.  I  think  one  unholy  thought  or  desire  would 
desecrate  the  place;"  and  she  looked  plaintively  and 
inquiringly  into  his  face. 

u  Dear  child,  you  are  a  sweet,  bewitching,  innocent  lit- 
tle fool,"  and  he  kissed  her  fervently  and  left. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


83 


CHAPTEE  X . 

nature's  nobleman. 

"  He  was  not  born  to  shame ; 
Upon  his  brow  shame  is  ashamed  to  sit ; 
For  'tis  a  throne  where  honor  may  be  crowned 
Sole  monarch  of  the  universal  earth." 

"  Love  is  a  passion  which  kindles  honor  into  noble  acts." 

At  the  same  hour,  in  a  plain,  neat  little  room,  back  of 
a  little  variety  storer  seated  in  a  little  old  arm  chair,  is  a 
little  old  lady.  The  little  old  lady  is  very  aged  ;  her  hair, 
which  is  milk  white,  is  combed  smoothly  over  her  wrin- 
kled brow,  and  worn  under  a  prim  Quaker  cap.  A  little 
table  is  by  her  side,  on  which  is  a  snow-white  cover  and 
a  napkin,  a  fine  China  plate,  cup  and  saucer,  wine-glass, 
knife,  and  silver  fork. 

A  rather  quaint,  quiet-looking  little  woman,  attired  in  a 
brown  merino  dress,  a  collar  of  fine  linen,  white  as  her 
teeth,  with  cuffs  to  suit,  is  in  attendance.  This  little  young 
lady  is  not  pretty,  as  we  behold  her  just  then,  but  she  is 
good,  Oh,  how  good  ! 

"  Aweel !  aweel !  my  bonny  bairn,  ye  dinna  ken,  and 
maybe  ye  dinna  care,  how  lang  and  wearily  the  time 
drags  wi'  me.  Ye  gang  your  gaits,  but  ye  leave  the  puir 
auld  body  here  to  greet  and  glower  all  alone  by  my  ain 
sel'.  Lang,  Oh,  too  lang  it  is,  before  I  can  lay  me  down 
and  dee." 

"  Ah  !  now,  grannie,  niver  fash,  and  it'll  be  gude  when 
it  comes.  Aweel !  and  it's  nae  sae  lang  either  since  ye 
tasted  o'  the  gude  things  frae  God's  store-house." 


84  THE    NIGHT  AYATCH. 

Then  she  placed  on  that  little  table  the  nicest  plate  of 
oysters  and  crackers,  fills  the  China  cup  with  aromatic 
tea,  and  pours  into  the  glass  a  spoonful  of  good  port  wine. 
It  is  all  on  the  table,  every  morsel  that  the  house  con- 
tained that  night.  The  old  lady  eats  with  a  morbid  appe- 
tite, while  with  the  garrulousness  and  querulousness  of 
extreme  old  age,  she  grumbles  all  the  time.  But  that 
dear  little  embodiment  of  patience  and  fortitude  never 
retorts.  Then,  when  all  is  consumed,  every  oyster  and 
every  cracker,  and  there  is  nothing  left  for  the  pious, 
lovely,  self-sacrificing  little  Minny  Dun,  she  with  a  smoth- 
ered sigh  pours  out  a  cup  of  tea,  and  drinks  it  without 
the  amelioration  of  sugar  or  cream.  Still  with  a  thank- 
ful heart,  a  contented  mind,  and  an  humble  spirit,  she 
says,  mentally,  "  I  have  lost  my  thrift,  somehow^,  I  dinna 
ken  half  my  time  what  I  am  about.  But  I  will  provide 
better  next  week." 

That  good  creature  retired  presently  with  the  pangs  of 
hunger  at  work ;  but  she  did  not  the  less  pour  out  her 
soul  in  gratitude  to  God.  Peace  be  with  thee,  and  angels 
watch  over  thee  and  thy  aged,  exacting  parent ;  and  may 
God  bless  thee,  thou  gentle,  affectionate  little  Minny  Dun. 


In  another  part  of  the  city,  quite  remote  from  this, 
there  are  four  or  five  men  seated  over  a  fire  in  a  mean, 
dirty-looking  room.  The  atmosphere  is  reeking  with  the 
rank  odor  of  spilt  liquor  and  tobacco  smoke. 

A  dark,  but  very  handsome  man  gets  up,  puts  on  his 
overcoat,  which  is  bear-skin,  buttons  it  up  to  his  chin, 
dons  a  cap  of  the  same  material,  takes  his  club  of  office, 
and  leaves  the  room,  the  rest  following  him. 

The  first  man  separates  himself  from  the  others,  and 
walks  on  hurriedly  until  he  gets  opposite  to  a  stately  man- 
sion, from  the  windows  of  which  brilliant  lights  are 
streaming.    He  stops,  looks  at  the  house,  and  mutters  to 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


85 


himself,  "Well,  he  can't  help  it,  and  I  can't  help  it  either. 
I  curse  myself  every  hour  in  the  day.  But  why  do  this  ? 
I  am  not  to  blame.  All  are  attracted,  even  as  I  was. 
Who  can  resist  such  beauty  ?  I  saw  him  start.  I  saw 
that  look  of  wondering  admiration,  that  intense  mesmeric 
gaze.  He  stopped  too  ;  but  she  did  not  recoil  from  him. 
I  watched  her.  Ho,  no  ;  she  stood  and  gazed  too.  I 
watched  her." 

While  he  stood  there  thus  communing  with  himself  and 
kindling  his  wrath,  the  street-door  opened,  and  a  muffled 
figure  comes  out  in  the  clear  gas  light.  His  hat  is  also 
drawn  low  down  over  his  face,  which  is  quite  concealed. 
He  walks  on  rapidly  until  he  gets  far  down  Market  street. 
The  bear-skin  man  keeps  a  short  distance  behind. 

When  the  man  ahead  stops,  it  is  in  front  of  the  hovel. 
He  walks  slowly  before  the  house  for  some  time  ;  always 
in  passing  sends  a  curious,  keen  glance  into  the  old  rickety 
window. 

The  stained  and  time-worn  curtain  reveals,  through  a 
rent  in  the  center,  the  group  within.  A  little  fire  is  blaz- 
ing in  the  grate ;  the  old  lady  is  rocking  herself  as  usual, 
looking  very  calm  and  peaceful.  A  small  work-table 
stands  before  the  fire,  on  which  is  an  old  tin  lamp. 
Myra  is  seated  by  this,  writing  in  a  large  book.  A  hand- 
kerchief is  thrown  over  her  head  so  that  her  face  is  only 
partially  revealed.  She  writes  rapidly,  then  stopping, 
puts  her  hand  to  her  head,  and  seems  to  think.  Then 
she  raises  those  glorious  eyes  to  heaven,  and  they  are 
humid.  She  writes  again  —  now  she  stops  and  weeps, 
and  placing  her  left  hand  over  her  heart,  sighs  deeply. 

Surprise,  admiration,  and  curiosity,  have  now  all  given 
place  to  one  overwhelming  feeling  of  amazement.  He  is 
really  as  cold  as  the  lamp-post  against  which  he  leans. 

When  our  bear-skin  man  gets  within  ear  shot,  he 
catches  these  disjointed  exclamations:  "Strange  !  passing 


86 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


strange  !  most  marvelous  !  It  must  be  the  same  !  It  can 
be  no  other  than  a  living  woman  who  sits  there  writing ! 
I  am  bewildered  !  My  head  whirls  !  I  am  either  dying, 
or  I  am  frightened  !  I  know  nothing  of  either,  save  in 
the  abstract ;  but  I  rather  think  this  is  death.  Oh,  God  ! 
I  am  content !  Let  me  die,  then,  while  I  am  gazing  at 
her !  I  was  taught  to  believe  that  the  cold  tomb  en- 
shrouded that  matchless  form !  My  mother  told  me  so, 
and  I  have  never  yet  doubted  her  truth.  This,  then,  is 
only  a  vision,  a  glimpse  of  heaven." 

"Past  nine  o'clock!"  sung  out  the  "Night  Watch," 
"all's  well." 

The  man  in  the  slouched  hat  starts  up,  looks  wildly 
around,  and  hurries  off. 

The  watchman  then  takes  his  place  against  the  lamp- 
post, and  the  poor  inmates  are  subjected  also  to  his  gaze. 
He,  no  doubt,  would  have  stopped  there  till  morning,  and 
left  somebody  else  to  cry  out,  "All's  well,"  had  not  one  of 
his  comrades  surprized  him  by  rudely  slapping  him  on 
the  shoulder. 

"  Why,  Murdoch,  what  in  the  devil's  name  are  you 
standing  there  gazing  at  that  old  blue  flag  for  ?  What  in 
the  h  do  you  see  there  to  peer  at  so  £  frorociously  ?'  " 

"Yes,"  added  another,  "it's  Phil  and  myself  what's 
been  watching  ye  for  ten  minutes  a'most ;  and  be  Jasus 
we  jist  thought  ye  was  frozen  in  yer  shoes,  entirely." 

"  Pass  on,  pass  on  ;  I've  got  nothing  to  do  with  you," 
replied  he,  and  as  they  walked  away  they  laughed 
coarsely.  This  was  an  entire  new  phase  in  the  behavior 
of  their  brother  in  office. 

While  he  continues  to  gaze,  the  old  curtain  is  drawn 
closely  together ;  so  that  the  aperture  being  closed  the 
enrapturing  vision  is  shut  out,  or  rather  in.  The  man 
grinds  his  teeth  in  impotent  rage. 

"  There  it  is  again,  Murray  could  have  stood  here  till 


THE    NIGHT     WATCH.  87 

broad  day-light  and  she  would  never  have  thought  of 

closing  that  d  d  rag.    But  as  soon  as  I  come,  then, 

that's  the  way  !  But  I'll  have  her,  and  I'll  make  her  rue 
the  day  that  she  flung  the  door  so  fiercely  into  my  face, 
and  then  looked  so  dove-like  on  him.  What  right  had 
she  to  treat  me  thus  ?  or  what  business  has  she  being  so 
pretty  ?  Why  did  she  settle  down  in  that  little  place  on 
the  way-side,  if  she  don't  want  folks  to  look  at  her  ?  God 
forgive  me  !  I  can't  help  my  nature.  I  fall  in  love  with  - 
beauty  whenever  I  meet  with  it,  and  the  more  I  should 
not,  the  more  I  do.  I  love  to  gaze  at  the  lovely  creature 
behind  that  old  curtain,  because  I  know  she  don't  want 
me  to." 

It  was  the  old  lady  who  had  closed  the  curtain,  and  she 
now  calls  on  her  granddaughter  to  join  in  the  evening 
devotions. 

Eeader,  had  you  been  sufficiently  near  to  hear  without 
seeing,  you  would  never  have  inferred  from  that  address 
to  Deity,  that  there  was  want,  and  misery,  and  squalid 
poverty  in  that  house — so  hopeful  and  grateful  was  the 
thanksgiving ;  so  fervent,  glowing,  and  intense  the  praise  ; 
so  trusting  and  confident  the  invocation.  In  seeking  the 
kingdom,  that  dear  old  saint  had  found  all  things  added. 
She  never  doubted,  for  one  single  moment,  the  validity 
and  -steadfastness  of  God's  promises.  This  sufficed  for 
her  happiness,  better  than  silver  and  gold,  stately  man- 
sions, ermine  and  fine  linen.  All  these  are  unstable  and 
perishable  :  but  God's  promises  are  immutable  and  inde- 
structible. 

That  feeble,  infirm  woman  was  elevated  by  her  faith 
and  love  above  the  common  mutations  of  time,  the  vicis- 
situdes of  life.  Nothing  could  make  her  afraid.  Did 
sickness  and  sorrow  assail,  did  friends  desert,  did  enemies 
smite,  did  hunger  pinch,  did  toil  weary,  and  break  down, 
and  shatter  the  old  casket,  still  the  jewel  within  remained 


88  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

untarnished.  It  was  given  into  the  keeping  of  one  who 
knew  the  worth  of  the  gem.  She  smiled  at  all  the  ills  of 
life  in  her  blunt  way,  well  knowing  that  Christ's  little 
flock  had  nothing  to  fear.  Christ,  the  Good  Shepherd  ! 
Oh  !  how  beautiful  are  those  words,  "  He  w^ill  watch  over 
them,  and  lead  them  into  green  pastures  !  "  Even  death 
had  no  terrors  for  her.  The  same  Good  Shepherd  would 
be  waiting  at  the  portal  to  conduct  his  ransomed  one  into 
the  presence  of  the  Father.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that 
that  hovel  should  have  seemed  like  a  palace  to  her. 

She  thus  retires  to  rest  —  but  first  entreating  her  grand- 
daughter to  follow  her  example.  Finding  all  her  persua- 
sions fail,  she  essays  to  use  an  argument  which,  with 
ladies,  is  generally  potent. 

"  Myra,  my  dear  child,  if  you  do  not  give  up  this  ugly 
habit  of  sitting  up  all  night,  you  will  soon  begin  to  look 
like  a  blighted,  or  frost-bitten  flower.  In  a  short  time 
your  skin  will  resemble  an  old,  wilted  cabbage-leaf." 

Poor  Myra  smiled  mournfully,  as  she  replied, 

"  Ah  !  grandma,  that  is  the  fittest  similitude  you  ever 
used  in  your  life.  I  am  wmat  you  describe,  even  now. 
But  what  matter  ?  What  use  have  I  for  charms  ?  Yet  to 
please  you,  I  will  soon  retire.  Indeed,  mother,  I  intend 
from  henceforth  to  obey  every  suggestion  of  your's,  as 
faithfully  as  if  I  were  a  machine,  set  in  motion  by  you. 
Then  I  shall  be  saved  the  trouble  of  thinking,  and  can 
feed  on  memories." 

"  I'm  done :  you  are  about  to  mount  your  stilts  again, 
I  see,  child.  Well!  totter  on.  I'm  afraid  though  you'll 
get  a  mighty  fall,  some  of  these  days.  Go  to  bed,  go 
to  bed.  I  suggest  this  then,  as  the  first  test  of  your 
obedience." 

Myra  rose  and  seemed  to  busy  herself  in  the  necessary 
preparations  for  retiring.  Presently  the  old  lady  gave 
token  of  having  found  temporary  rest  from  her  labors. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  89 

The  child,  too,  is  sleeping  sweetly.  The  lady  is  also  dis- 
robed of  her  faded,  fine  garments,  and  has  donned  a 
double  wrapper  of  coarse  cloth.  She  moves  about  very 
softly,  puts  all  things  to  rights,  places  the  little  stand  near 
the  fire,  having  added  a  very  little  fuel  to  the  dying- 
embers  ;  then  she  takes  out  her  journal,  and  turning  back 
several  leaves,  reads,  and  weeps.  Then  she  goes  up  very 
softly  to  the  bedside,  and  kisses  the  child  many  times. 
After  which  she  seats  herself  and  writes  impatiently,  and 
nervously,  as  if  afraid  to  stop  or  think. 


8 


90  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  JOURNAL. 

"  0  remembrance : 
Why  dost  thou  open  all  my  wounds  again  ?  " 

"  Thinking  will  make  me  mad.    Why  must  I  think, 
When  no  thought  brings  me  comfort. " 

"Passions  are  likened  best  to  floods  and  streams  ; 
The  shallow  murmur,  but  the  deep  are  dumb." 

"  Sunday  night,  10  o'clock.  O  my  Father  in  heaven  ! 
Pity  me!  Spirit  of  my  sainted  mother,  whose  heart,  like 
mine,  was  broken,  hover  near,  and  sustain  me !  I  droop, 
I  faint,  dear  mother !  I  have  not  thy  sublime  spirit  of 
endurance,  thy  perfect  patience,  thy  exalting  philosophy, 
or  thy  meek,  subdued  piety.  But  Oh,  I  have  all  thy 
griefs.  I  inherit  all  thy  sorrows,  with  none  to  help,  none 
to  listen,  none  to  pity ;  and,  alas  !  no  self-sustaining  power, 
and  no  Christian  graces.  I  weep  my  eyes  out ;  my  soul  is 
dissolved  in  weakness,  while  my  nature  and  constitution 
are  enfeebled  and  shattered.  Come,  gentle  spirit,  like 
that  dove  of  old,  and  give  me  an  earnest  of  thy  sympathy  ; 
a  token  that  thou  art  near !  O  dear  spirit !  if  thou  art 
permitted,  let  me  hear  the  soothing  rustle  of  thy  angel- 
wings  !  " 

The  poor,  grief-stricken,  half-demented  woman  sat  as 
if  entranced,  in  the  attitude  of  rapt  attention,  listening  to 
catch  that  token. 

Now,  a  change  comes  over  her  face  —  a  shadow  flits 
across  it.  She  is  disappointed,  and  she  bows  her  head, 
and  weeps  while  she  plaintively  murmurs, 


THE    Jfcl  G  H  T    WATCH.  91 

u  All  things  fail  me  !   Hast  thou  too  forgotten  thy  child, 

0  my  mother  ?  Blessed  Jesus,  then  pity  me !  I  am 
taught,  that  Thou,  and  Thou  only,  never  didst  at  any 
time,  turn  away  from  the  wretched.  Thou  hast  seen  that 
this  day  has  been  one  of  intense  torture.  Thou  knowest 
that  my  anguish  of  soul  has  been  more  than  I  could 
endure  through  another  day.  Oh  !  how  I  have  longed  for 
silence  and  solitude.  I  am  not  mistaken.  I  saw  him 
to-day.  He  passed  that  window.  I  saw  him  start,  then 
stop,  and  turn  ghastly  pale.  I  was  at  that  moment  stand- 
ing there,  dreaming  of  him ;  thinking  over  those  halcyon 
days,  before  our  troubles  came.  So  vivid  was  this  action 
of  memory,  that  I  thought  myself  still  by  his  side,  wan- 
dering through  orange  and  myrtle  groves.  Seeing  him 
thus,  was  so  much  a  matter  of  course,  that  I  smiled  a 
joyous  welcome,  having  for  the  nonce  forgotten  this  fright- 
ful change.  Yes !  I  smiled  ;  and  then  I  saw  the  blood 
rush  back  to  his  face,  and  he  looked  startled  and  bewil- 
dered. Just  as  I  was  about  to  fly  to  the  door,  and  call 
out  frantically  on  his  clear,  honored  name,  O  God  !  that 
fearful   promise,  that  awful  oath,  that  heart-crushing, 

soul-killing  secret  came  to  my  mind.  The  day  my 

poor  father  imparted  it  to  me,  is  one  never  to  be  forgotten. 
Such  days  as  that,  and  this,  occur  but  once  in  a  lifetime. 
~No  nature  is  strong  enough  to  endure  a  repetition ;  no 
mind  firm  enough  to  bear  up  under  such  a  weight ;  no 
heart  capacious  enough  to  conceal  its  corrodings.  My 
blood  curdles  at  the  remembrance  !    God  help  me  !  I  feel 

1  am  on  the  brink  of  distraction." 

She  walks  hurriedly  across  the  room  many  times; 
then  taking  her  seat,  she  again  writes  on  slowly  and 
wearily  : 

"  I  loved  him  so  much  !  Oh  !  who  ever  loved  as  I  did, 
or  was  loved  as  I  was  ?  I  could  get  none  to  speak  of  him 
to  me,  and  it  was  only  when  they  thought  me  dying,  and 
in  answer  to  my  frenzied  entreaties,  that  as  a  death-bed 


92  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

favor  they  whispered,  1  He  is  married  ;  so  now  turn  your 
thoughts  from  earth  to  heaven.'  Oh!  why  was  I  not 
suffered  to  die  then  ?  Why  left  here  only  to  bewail 
the  past  and  dread  the  future  ?  To  please  my  father  then, 
I  perjured  my  soul,  and  married  too.  But  softly ;  let  me 
not  revive  that  memory.  O  God  !  Spare  me  this  remin- 
iscence. Let  every  association  in  my  mind  perish  ;  let 
every  connecting  link  be  sundered ;  let  all  things  die,  so 
that  there  be  no  cue  to  that  fearful  connection.  My  poor 
grandmother  is  the  chain  by  which  I  am  forced  to  unite 
the  past  with  the  present.  But  for  that,  I  should  wish  to 
annihilate  all  dates,  all  mementoes,  all  remembrances. 
My  darling  mother  stood  by  her  child  as  long  as  she  lived. 
She  was  so  just,  upright,  and  pure  that  cruelty,  vice,  and 
crime  did  not  stalk  abroad  in  our  vicinity  then,  as  after- 
ward.   Oh !  I  am  very  wretched  !  " 

Just  then  the  child  stirred  uneasily,  and  commenced 
speaking  in  a  low,  drowsy  voice  : 

"  Mamma,  I  love  you  ;  won't  that  do  ?  I  love  you  ;  let 
me  kiss  you,  my  sweet  mother."  Then  he  threw  his  lit- 
tle arms  up  as  if  to  embrace  her. 

"'.Now,  may  God  forgive  me!"  cried  that  frantic 
mother.  "  My  child,  my  child !  I  have  in  my  madness 
invoked  maledictions  on  thy  innocent  head.  O  Saviour, 
intercede  for  me,  and  let  not  my  wild  ravings  be  visited 
on  the  head  of  this  poor  lamb." 

She  threw  herself  on  her  knees  by  the  bed,  wrung  her 
hands,  wept,  and  prayed  fervently  in  her  incoherent  way, 
until  she  even  exhausted  grief.  Then  she  arose,  bathed 
her  eyes,  and  again  wrote  : 

"  I  regret  much  that  I  stood  beside  the  window  to-day. 
I  fear  I  shall  never  be  able  to  subdue  this  restless  spirit 
any  more.  I  must  hide  away  from  him.  He  must  not 
see  me.  I  must  not  look  upon  him.  I  can  not  keep  the 
oath,  were  I  to  do  so.  Alas !  to  what  a  condition  am  I 
reduced  !    To-morrow  I  must  sit  here  again,  a  sort  of 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


93 


raree  show,  where  everybody  seems  to  feel  free  to  enter. 
I  must  enact  the  same  falsehood,  play  off  the  same  insig- 
nificant cheat. 

"  Fashionable  dress-maker  !  Saints  and  angels  !  I 
never  have  made  a  dress ;  I  know  not  whether  I  could 
achieve  such  a  thing  to  save  my  life  ;  yet  I  am  to  be  again 
insulted  and  gazed  at.  All  this  humiliation  I  must  endure, 
because  I  had  not  the  power  to  subdue,  nay,  subvert 
nature,  to  change  God's  own  work.  He  made  me  as  I 
am.  He  gave  me  this  loving  heart ;  endued  me  with  this 
yielding,  trusting,  grateful  disposition,  and  cursed  me 
with  these  fervent  affections,  this  ardent  nature,  and  then 
suffered  me  to  be  tempted  beyond  my  strength.  Now  my 
heart  is  cold  and  dead  ;  sometimes  it  seems  to  be  iron, 
then  stone,  and  again  ice.    But  to-day,  aye  !  to-day  

"  How  handsome  he  looked !  I  think  I  should  have 
screamed  with  joy,  had  not  I  been  so  wrapped  up  in  that 
dream.  How  superb  he  is  in  his  glorious  serenity  !  how 
magnificent  in  gloom  !  how  sublime  in  trouble !  Man, 
lover,  friend,  philosopher,  Christian,  he  is  more  than 
human  in  each  relation  of  life. 

"  I  could  not  ask  the  child,  could  not  trust  myself  to 
speak  his  name.  Grandma  did  not  allude  to  the  hand- 
some stranger.  My  poor  little  son  !  Oh  !  my  head  is 
dizzy.  I  grow  wild  !  I  am  half  dead  !  What  will  become 
of  me  ?  Brother,  my  brother  !  Father  !  you  were  very 
stern,  fierce,  and  cruel ;  but  you  did  it  for  the  best,  per- 
haps. I  don't  know.  Look  down  now,  poor  father,  and 
see  what  your  work  has  done.  Behold  thy  lost,  lost,  lost 
child."    She  falls  heavily  from  her  seat. 

The  tenants  of  that  lowly  place  are  so  worn  out  by  toil 
that  they  sleep  soundly. 

When  the  old  lady  rises,  she  finds  Myra  lying  on  the 
floor,  apparently  dead.  A  little  stream  of  blood  has 
issued  from  a  contusion  on  the  temple,  which  is  now 


94 


THE    NIG  H  T     W  A  T  C  H  . 


coagulated.  God  knows  how  long  she  had  been  lying 
there ;  she  is  white  and  cold,  and  does  not  breathe. 

The  poor  old  lady  is  frantic  with  grief  and  fright ;  she 
runs  to  the  door ;  gives  one  piercing  shriek  of  alarm.  The 
house-maid  at  the  opposite  tenement  is  opening  the  win- 
dows ;  she  drops  her  broom,  and  runs  over,  saying — 

"  What  de  matter,  Mam  ?  " 

"Look!"  said  the  old  lady,  pointing  to  her  prostrate 
child. — "  For  the  love  of  God  !  run  for  a  Doctor  !  " 

"I  can't  leave  home,  Mam  —  I  darn't  to  —  but  I'll  run 
tell  little  Miss  Minny  Dun  ;  she'll  fix  everything  right 
for  you." 

In  the  mean  time,  Clarence  had  been  roused  up ;  and 
instead  of,  "  child-like,"  adding  to  the  commotion,  he 
dresses  himself,  and  seeing  his  grandmother  making  un- 
successful efforts  to  get  his  mother  in  bed,  without  saying 
a  word  —  the  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks  —  he  takes 
hold  of  her  feet,  and  they  raise  her  up.  He  then  puts  on 
his  little  cap,  slips  from  the  house,  and  runs  along  the 
street,  sobbing  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 

It  being  early,  there  are  but  few  persons  passing.  ]STone 
seem  to  heed  that  poor  child.  He  has  accosted  some  half- 
dozen  persons ;  but  taking  him  for  a  little  beggar,  re- 
hearsing his  part,  which  must  be  played  over  with  varia- 
tions a  hundred  times  during  the  course  of  the  day,  they 
push  him  rudely  aside.  He  would  sometimes  take  hold 
of  a  coarse,  rough  man's  hand,  and  raising  his  tearful 
eyes  to  his  face,  say  —  "  Oh,  Sir,  for  God's  sake,  help  me 
to  find  a  doctor;  "  but  he  would  also  shake  him  off.  That 
short  syllable,  "  help,"  had  steeled  their  hearts.  None 
waited  to  hear  his  sad  story. 

Dear  little  soul  !  he  ran  that  cold  morning,  only  half 
clad  as  he  was,  all  the  way  to  the  market-house,  without 
stopping.  There  he  is  still  unheeded  ;  till  presently,  catch- 
ing one  familiar  note,  and  listening,  he  hears  a  friendly 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  95 

M 

voice  :  darting  to  the  spot,  he  throws  his  arms  around  the 
neck  of  a  rather  uncouth,  ugly  negro-man,  and  after  kiss- 
ing his  sooty  face  two  or  three  times,  he  finds  words  to 
tell  his  tale. 

u  God  A'mighty  bress  de  darlin  child,"  said  he,  em- 
bracing him. 

"  Oh  !  Uncle  Ned,  my  dear  mother  will  be  dead — quite 
dead — if  }^ou  don't  come  now,  and  run  all  the  way." 

u  Why,  honey !  de'll  whip  ebery  bit  o'  skin  offer  Uncle 
Ned's  back,  if  I  leave  my  posties  here." 

The  boy  wrung  his  hands,  crying — "  Then  I  fear  she  is 
lost!" 

An  Irish  woman  who  had  been  listening,  comes  up,  and 
taking  him  in  her  arms,  cries  out?  as  she  wiped  her  eyes, 
"  Oh,  the  darlint  lamb.  Come,  Ned,  take  the  dear,  and 
just  go  along.  I'll  stay  by  and  watch  the  stall,  and  stand 
between  you  and  blame." 

Uncle  Ned  takes  him  from  the  woman,  and  placing  his 
great,  hard,  horn  hand*  over  his  little  bare  feet,  he  moves 
off  at  a  rapid  pace.  He  takes  him  to  Doctor  Brown's 
office  ;  there  the  little  fellow  is  allowed  to  tell  his  troubles 
in  his  own  language ;  which  is  rendered  almost  incompre- 
hensible, on  account  of  his  choking  sobs. 

When  they  arrive,  they  find  little  Minny  Dun  and  the 
grandmother  engaged  in  rubbing  the  patient.  They  are 
so  much  absorbed  that  they  have  forgotten  to  shut  the 
street  door,  and  there  are  a  pair  of  large,  coal-black,  but 
gentle  eyes,  peeping  out  from  amid  coarse  furs,  at  them. 
He  stands  in  the  way,  waiting  to  be  of  service.  The 
Doctor  enters,  visibly  shuddering,  as  he  beholds  the 
tableau,  as  also  with  cold. 

"  Boy,  put  down  the  child,  and  make  a  fire." 

P  Yes,  Sir,  I  gwine  to  do  dat  of  my  own  'cord.  I  knows 
ole  Missus  dare,  and  young  Massa,  and  de  poor  dead  lady. 
I  loves  'em  all.  Dey  give  poor  Uncle  Ned  dinner,  one 
day,  when  he  quite  starved  a'most." 


96 


T  H  E    N  I  G  II  T  WATCH. 


Having  made  the  fire,  Ned  goes  for  water.  The  child 
creeps  up  to  his  mother,  and  dropping  on  his  knees  seizes 
her  hand,  which  he  covers  with  kisses  and  tears.  The 
Doctor  has  done  a  great  deal  for  her,  and  she  at  last  gives 
some  signs  of  life. 

Doctor  Brown  thinks  of  something  which  he  needs. 

He  looks  round  for  a  messenger.  ISTed  has  gone,  and 
the  child  is  half  dead  wTith  grief ;  he  steps  to  the  door,  and 
seeing  our  bear-skin  man  there,  he  calls  to  him. 

"  Murdoch,  come  hither.  Can't  you  do  a  service  to  this 
poor  family?    They  are  in  great  distress." 

"  With  the  most  hearty  good  will,  I  assure  you,  sir." 

He  is  then  entrusted  with  the  errand ;  and  before  the 
Doctor  had  taken  a  half-dozen  turns  in  the  room  he  was 
back. 

He  entered  now  without  ceremony,  and  after  handing 
the  articles  to  the  Doctor,  he  approached  the  bed  and 
gazes  with  a  reverential  look  at  the  patient.  There  is  no 
contortion  of  muscle,  limb  or  feature.  She  reclines  in  the 
most  easy,  graceful  attitude ;  one  arm  has  been  bandaged 
for  the  use  of  the  lancet,  this  is  bare,  and  is  thrown  up 
over  her  head  ;  while  the  other  hand  is  clasped  in  that  of 
her  son,  still  kneeling  by  her  side. 

The  man  seems  to  be  magnetized ;  and  is  at  first  unable 
to  withdraw  his  gaze.  .Now  he  turns  mournfully  away, 
and  wipes  his  eyes. 

Minny  Dun  has  gone  home,  for  a  moment.  Old  Mrs. 
Wise  is  in  the  kitchen.  The  Doctor  wishes  to  raise  the 
patient,  for  the  purpose  of  pouring  some  potion  down  her 
throat.    He  looks  round  

"  Here,  Murdoch  !  'Tis  a  matter  of  life  and  death, 
and  death  has  much  the  best  chance  just  now ;  else  I 
would  not  place  her  in  this  perilous  situation,"  said  he, 
with  a  mischievous  smile.  "  Here  sit  behind  this  poor 
lady,  while  I  pour  this  medicine  down  her  throat." 

Murdoch  hesitated,  and  seemed  to  hang  back. 


THE     NIGHT    W  A  T  C  II . 


97 


¥  Come,  my  friend,  she  will  strangle  to  death,  unless 
she  is  supported ;  "  and  he  points  to  Myra's  shoulders. 

The  man  approached,  as  if  he  were  treading  on  hallowed 
ground,  and  very  softly  takes  her  in  his  arms  and  leans 
her  up  against  his  rugged,  giant-like  breast.  When  the 
Doctor  attempts  to  administer  the  drug,  he  can  not ;  for 
Murdoch  is  seized  with  such  an  uncontrollable  agitation 
that  he  shakes  the  whole  bed.  Doctor  Brown  looks  up  in 
astonishment. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Murdoch  ?  Have  you  got 
an  ague,  too  ?  " 

When  he  looked  into  his  face,  he  well-nigh  dropped 
the  cup.  His  e}^es  were  blazing,  scorched  up  with  feeling, 
and  had  become  blood-shot.  He  is  very  pale ;  almost  as 
much  so  as  the  poor  lady  on  whom  his  fiery  gaze  is  fixed. 
By  a  superhuman  effort  he  quells  the  storm  within.  In 
doing  so  he  has  wound  his  arms  so  tightly  around  poor 
Myra,  that  she  struggles  and  writhes  in  pain. 

"  Why,  Murdoch,  you  are  worse  than  any  school-boy. 
Loose  your  hold,  man.  Presently  the  lady  will  open  her 
eyes ;  then  she  will  think  herself  enfolded  in  4  bruin's 
embrace,'  if  she  sees  all  that  bear-skin  about  her.  Let  us 
put  her  down,  now." 

When  the  good,  honest,  but  rough  Night  Watch,  was 
released,  he  did  not  stop  to  say  a  word,  but  rushed  from 
the  house.  Then  he  kept  on  his  way,  walking  very 
rapidly,  until  he  came  to  a  lonely  spot — a  covered  bridge. 
He  now  threw  open  his  coat,  vest,  and  shirt ;  baring  his 
breast  to  the  keen  north-west  wind,  he  sends  forth  a  shrill 
sort  of  sound,  between  a  hiss  and  a  whistle : 

"W-h-e-w!  w-h-e-w !  Come,  now,  poor  heart,  don't 
burst  through  this  hard,  strong  rind,  this  thick  bark ! 
W-h-e-w!  .  .  .  w-h-ew!  ....  4  Peace !  be  still/ 
poor  fluttering  devil.  I  wonder  what  business  such  a  car- 
cass as  this  has  with  such  a  heart.  —  W-h-e-w!  Well! 
from  this  time  I'm  a  better  man.  jSTo  more  coarse,  low 
9 


98 


T  II  E    N  1  G  II  T     W  A  TCH. 


connections.  No  more  vulgar  associates.  No,  no  !  This 
breast,  black,  coarse,  and  savage-looking  as  it  is  (and  he 
plucked  fiercely  at  the  luxuriant  growth  of  black  hair), 
has  supported  an  angel,  and  these  arms  have  encircled 
that  heavenly  form.  Whew!  my  blood  boils,  and  my 
brain  seems  to  shift  about  in  my  noddle.  Oh,  I  do  wish 
I  could  get  my  chest  cool  once  more.    W-h-e-w  !  " 

"What  is  the  matter,  Murdoch?"  said  a  rich,  mellow, 
friendly  voice.  "  What  are  you  doing  with  your  clothes 
open  this  frosty  morning?" 

The  Night  Watch  averted  his  eyes  as  if  afraid  Colonel 
Murray  would  read  his  secret.  He  endeavors  to  draw  his 
clothes  together,  over  that  broad,  black  chest,  but  he 
becomes  embarrassed,  fumbles  with  his  buttons,  and 
makes  no  headway.  He  now  starts  off,  walking  hurriedly 
along,  wishing  to  outstrip  his  companion. 

"  Why,  friend  Murdoch,  what  has  brought  you  out  here 
before  sunrise,  with  bare  breast  to  court  the  northern 
breeze  in  December?  " 

"  Faith,  I  may  ask  you  the  same  question." 

"  Not  altogether  a  parallel  case,  I  think,  Murdoch.  As 
to  myself,  I  am  just  at  this  time  cursed  with  a  sort  of 
unrest.  I  can  not  sleep,  I  can  not  read  or  write,  and 
worse  than  all,  I  can  not  stay  at  home." 

The  bear-skin  man  walks  on  moodily,  without  reply- 
ing. Now  he  darts  a  keen  glance  at  Murray,  and  is  a 
thousand  times  more  jealous  than  before.  The  last  half 
hour,  though,  has  made  him  more  human.  An  hour  ago, 
and  he  was  almost  fiendish  when  thinking  of  his  rival,  as 
he  viewed  him. 

Oh !  divine  love !  thine  influence  is  marvelous  on  the 
coarse  and  savage  nature  of  man.  How  it  softens,  and 
refines,  and  exalts,  while  it  also  ennobles.  We  speak  of 
that  genuine  spark  which  is  from  heaven,  and  not  of  its 
semblance,  which  we  think  emanates  from  the  other 
place. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


99 


"  Murdoch,  I  have  been  looking  for  you.  I  wish  to  gain 
some  information  on  a  subject  with  which  I  think  you 
must  be  acquainted.  You  saw  me  standing  before  the 
window  of  that  house  on  Market  street?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly  I  did,  three  or  four  times.  What 
of  it?" 

"  Well,  my  friend,  that  house  contains  the  most  lovely 
child  I  ever  beheld.  I  should  like  to  know  something  of 
his  parentage.  Will  you  tell  me  all  you  know,  and  have 
heard?" 

"  I  have  heard  very  little,  and  I  know  less,"  replied  the 
Night  Watch,  with  a  dry,  curt  voice,  impatient  manner, 
and  dogged  look. 

Nothing  dismayed,  Col.  Murray  proceeded  with  his 
queries.    "  How  long  have  they  been  there  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  two  or  three  weeks  in  that  house,  I 
think." 

"  Have  they  lived  elsewhere  in  the  city  ?  " 
"  I  believe  they  boarded  at  some  hotel  when  they  first 
came." 

"  How  many  are  there  in  the  family  ?  " 

u  I  think  only  an  old  lady,  a  child,  and  its  mother." 

u  What  name  ?  what  do  they  call  themselves  ?  " 

"  Wise,  I  think,"  answered  the  man,  now  with  a  deci- 
dedly impatient  manner. 

"What  is  their  occupation,  and  where  do  they  come 
from  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  now  you  are  too  hard  for  me,  sir.  I  don't  know 
that,  and  I  don't  think  I've  any  right  to  know.  My  voca- 
tion don't  take  me  that  far  along,  I'm  thinking.  The 
young  woman's  got  a  sign  upon  the  door.  Haven't  you 
seen  it?" 

"  A  sign  ?    What  sort  of  a  sign  ?  " 

"  Fashionable  dress-maker  from  New  York.  Good 
morning,  colonel,  I  have  engagements." 

Murray  was  filled  with  amazement.    He  walked  on 


100 


THE    NIG  II  T    XV  A  T  C  H  . 


rapidly,  until  he  reaches  the  hovel,  and  passes  several 
times  before  the  door :  but  all  is  still  within.  He  now, 
for  the  first  time,  remarks  the  "  sign." 

"  Well,  after  all,  I  must  be  mistaken.  It  can't  be  she  ; 
but  oh  !  how  like !  What  a  quandary  I'm  in !  One 
moment  I  am  convinced,  the  next  I  am  filled  with  doubt. 
I  presume  this  is  a  just  punishment  for  doubting  the 
word  of  my  mother." 

As  he  returns  home,  he  meets  old  Faggot. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  have  been  out  for  two  days  or  nights 
that  I  have  not  encountered  that  old  Jew.  I  dislike  to 
do  so,  for  I  always  think  of  shame,  crime,  and  misery 
when  I  see  him,  carrying  his  head  hid  almost  between  his 
shoulders,  as  he  does  when  walking  the  street.  He  is  a 
strange  creature :  repulsive,  and  at  the  same  time,  attrac- 
tive, if  I  may  be  allowed  to  use  such  a  paradox." 

Thus  soliloquized  Murray  until  he  reached  home. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


101 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    DOMESTIC    SCENE    IN    HIGH  LIFE. 

"  Oh  !  I  have  passed  a  miserable  night, 
So  full  of  fearful  dreams,  of  ugly  sights, 
That  as  I  am  a  Ohristain,  faithful  man, 
I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  ;twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days : 
So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time/7 

Col.  Murray  and  his  imperious  mother  are  making  a 
silent  meal.  It  is  dinner;  himself,  his  mother,  and  little 
daughter  are  seated  at  table.  Three  servants  are  in 
attendance,  one  stationed  behind  each  chair.  You  can 
not  conceive  of  the  stateliness  and  solemnity  of  these 
silent  dinners.  Everything  is  magnificent,  and  arranged 
with  the  same  particularity  as  if  the  Queen  of  England, 
or  the  President  of  the  United  States,  was  going  to  dine 
there  by  special  invitation. 

Mrs.  Murray  is  dressed  with  the  most  elaborate  care. 
1  think  I  have  before  mentioned  that  she  was  about  sixty 
years  old,  but  looking  young  even  for  forty.  To-day  she 
is  attired  in  a  rich  purple  brocade,  trimmed  with  velvet, 
a  shade  or  two  darker  than  the  silk  ;  very  costly  collar 
and  undersleeves.  Her  complexion  is  fine  for  any  age ; 
somewhat  too  sanguine,  always,  immediately  after  the 
arduous  duties  of  the  toilette  have  been  gotten  through 
with.  She  wears  her  own  natural  hair,  but  not  its  natu- 
ral hue.  It  is  now  as  black  as  midnight,  and  arranged  in 
full  beautiful  bandeaux.  Her  eyes  are  keen,  piercing, 
black  ones,  and  like  her  hair,  they  glisten.  Her  teeth 
are  even  and  white,  and  artistically  beautiful ;  but  they  do 


102 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


not  seem  to  be  steadfast  in  her  head,  or  they  are  particu- 
larly sympathetic,  for  when  she  speaks,  or  laughs,  or 
eats,  these  finely  polished  ivories  are  seen  to  work  up  and 
down,  with  responsive  movement.  But  when  the  lady  is 
herself  moved  by  anger,  or  any  other  violent  agitation, 
the  teeth  seem  to  be  acted  upon  by  the  same  influence, 
shivering  and  shaking  as  if  possessed  of  a  separate  life. 
She  is  very  spare  and  lathlike,  thin  even  to  attenuation. 
But  then  she  wears  rich,  flowing  robes  and  handsome 
drapery.  That  poor  frame  is  generally  concealed  under 
a  mass  of  costly  attire. 

Col.  Murray, — but,  my  dear  reader,  I  will  leave  him  to 
your  imagination.  Just  call  to  mind  the  handsomest 
man  you  ever  saw  in  all  your  life,  on  a  grand  scale,  and 
of  the  dark  order.  Then  endow  him  with  a  gigantic 
intellect,  indomitable  will,  strong  and  fiery  passions,  affec- 
tionate and  glowing  temperament,  good,  honest,  upright 
heart;  let  him  be  wayward  and  excentric  (like  all  gen- 
iuses), proud  and  unsocial,  sometimes  ungehial ;  but  all 
these  incongruities  are  tempered  by  good  sense,  and  deep, 
fervent,  religious  emotions.  Then  give  him  fine,  large,  deep, 
lucid,  black  eyes ;  black  moustache,  whiskers,  and  hair. 

They  had  remained  for  some  time  after  the  cloth  was 
removed,  over  their  wine ;  up  to  this  time  preserving  that 
silence  unbroken  —  even  the  little  Genevieve  seemed  to  be 
afraid  to  prattle.  Suddenly  Col.  Murray  speaks,  and  his 
voice,  as  usual,  is  rich,  and  deep,  and  impressive ;  but  it 
has  lost  its  mellow  smoothness. 

"  Mother,  where  is  Marianna  Glencoe  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray's  face  flushed  the  deepest  crimson ;  then  as 
the  blood  flowed  back  she  became  deathly  pale  —  all  but 
those  two  spots  in  the  center  of  each  cheek.  Her  son 
beholds  this  strange  emotion  with  amazement,  and  now 
repeats  the  question,  watching  her  closely : 

"  Did  you  tell  me,  madam,  that  Marianna  Glencoe  was 
dead  f    Am  I  mistaken  ?  " 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


103 


She  at  length  replies,  but  with  evident  effort :  "Well, 
who  says  she  is  not  dead  ?  I'am  sure  nobody  has  a  better 
right  to  know  than  I,  and  I  did  tell  you  that  they  were 
all  dead ;  and  they  are  dead  and  buried." 

"  Do  you  say  now,  madam,  that  Marianna  Grlencoe  is 
dead?"  And  he  looked  at  her  fixedly,  as  if  he  would 
peer  into  her  soul. 

She  could  not  meet  that  cold,  keen,  steel-like  glance ; 
it  seemed  to  pierce  her.    She  fell  back  in  her  chair. 

Murray  approached  in  alarm,  but  she  signed  him  away, 
and  calling  to  her  maid,  retired  to  her  room  in  great 
disorder.  Soon  after,  the  girl  came  out,  saying  her  mis- 
tress was  ill,  and  wished  to  see  the  family  physician.  He 
sends  James  for  Doctor  Brown,  and  then,  forgetting  all 
those  conventionalities  which  had  been  taught  him  from 
his  cradle,  and  kept,  up  between  mother  and  son  with 
such  punctilious  scrupulosity,  was  about  to  rush  unbid- 
den for  the  first  time  into  her  presence.  But  Tivvy  meets 
him  at  the  door. 

"  Don't  come  in  here,  Mas'r  Charles  ;  for  your  life  don't 
enter  this  room  without  leave  and  license."  This  was 
spoken  in  a  whisper. 

"  Then  go  back  and  tell  my  mother  that  I  am  waiting 
to  see  her,  and  also  most  anxious  to  serve  her  in  any  way. 
Tell  her  this,  Tivvy,  with  my  fervent  love  " 

He  remained  at  the  door,  expecting  to  be  admitted,  and 
in  answer  to  his  respectful,  affectionate  message  he  hears 
her  shriek  out:  "Who?  Charles  Murray?  He  come  in 
here?  Oh!  God  forbid!  ~Nol  no!  no!  Where  is  he? 
Then  lock  that  door.  I  would  not  have  him  come  in  here 
for  worlds.  But,  Tivvy,  tell  him  I  am  very  much  obliged, 
I  wish  to  sleep  now.  When  I  can,  I  will  send  for  him. 
Oh,  yes!  certainly,  greatly  obliged."  Then  he  heard  a 
sob,  as  if  she  were  going  into  hysterics. 

The  girl  was  detained  a  short  time  with  her  mistress. 
When  she  came  out,  she  found  Col.  Murray  sitting  by  the 


104 


T  II  E     N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


parlor  fire  with  his  little  daughter  on  his  knee,  looking 
gloomily  out  of  the  window. 

When  that  good,  familiar  creature,  the  family  physi- 
cian, came,  he  finds  Mrs.  Murray  really  ill.  One  convul- 
sion after  another  makes  her  case  an  alarming  one  to  even 
the  steady  practitioner  of  twenty  years.  She  is  in  bed, 
but  there  has  been  no  change  made  in  the  appointments 
of  her  person,  other  than  the  rich  brocade  dress  for  that 
of  an  equally  rich  robe  de  chambre  of  satin. 

At  first  he  found  her  so  still  and  cold  that  he  feared  she 
had  died  before  he  came.  Yet  those  hectic  spots  were 
there,  as  ever,  glowing  on  the  poor,  lank  cheeks.  In 
alarm,  the  doctor  rings  the  bell.  The  maid  starts  up  from 
behind  the  bed,  where  she  had  been  dozing,  while  her 
mistress  was  dying. 

"  Go  call  your  master,  Tivvy ;  I  believe  your  mistress 
is  dead." 

The  girl  shakes  her  head,  saying, 
"  I  can't  do  it,  doctor;  can't,  indeed." 
"  Tivvy,  I  command  you  summon  Col.  Murray  to  the 
death-bed  of  his  mother." 

"  Can't  do  it,  doctor.  She  made  me  swear  that  not  even 
to  save  my  life,  and  hern  too,  would  I  ever  let  Mas'r 
Charles  come  into  her  bedroom.  If  she  was  dead,  and  he 
was  to  come  in,  'twould  make  her  stir." 

"  Strange  state  of  things.  I'll  go  myself.  I  fear  Charles 
Murray  would  never  forgive  me  if  I  should  let  her  die  otf 
and  not  warn  him." 

"Better  not,"  says  Tivvy.  "  See!  didn't  I  tell  you  it 
would  make  her  stir,  even  though  she  be  on  the  verge  and 
confines  of  the  tother  world.  Look !  "  Sure  enough, 
there  she  was  trying  to  speak,  and  is  able  at  last  to 
make  him  comprehend  that  on  no  account  must  he  call  in 
her  son. 

"  Well,  it  is  no  business  of  mine,  but  I  must  think  that 
it  is  deuced  unnatural." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  105 

"  You  see,"  said  Tivvy,  "  she's  very  proud  of  Mas'r  Con- 
rad ;  but,  alas  !  ah  me !  alack-a-daisical !  there  has  come 
a  great  change  over  'em  both  in  the  few,  last,  several 
years.  And  now,  doctor,  I  declare  I'm  'fraid  she  aint 
got  a  drop  of  tenderness  in  her  soul  for  him."  ("  Or  for 
anybody  else,  I'm  thinking,"  threw  in  the  doctor.)  "  Still 
she's  proud  of  him,  and  he  just  treats  her  at  all  times  like 
she  w^as  the  sure-'nough,  living,  live  Queen  o'  Sheepy. 
Nothing  makes  this  great  man  s'erve  from  his  good  pur- 
poses, no  how." 

"  Well,  I  know,  Tivvy ;  but  when  people  come  to  die 
they  generally  get  over  all  these  strange  quirks  and 
qualms,  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  as  the  Scotch  say. 
I  think  they  ought." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so  too  ;  but,  doctor,  it'll  not  be  so  with 
them,  I  tell  you  it  won't,  that's  all.  That  secret,  whatever 
it  is,  and  the  grudge  too,  whatever  it  is,  will  go  down  to 
the  grave  with  'em." 

The  doctor  now  approached  the  bed  ;  the  poor  invalid 
has  roused  up,  and  by  signs  and  a  few  incoherent  words, 
makes  him  comprehend  that  she  wishes  him  to  sit  down 
by  her.    She  whispered  again,  telling  the  maid  to  leave. 

"  Now  lock  the  door.    Is  all  secure  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Doctor  Brown. 

"  Then  help  me  to  rise." 

Imagine  the  doctor's  look.  "  Why,  madam,  you  are  out 
of  your  head !  I  did  not  suppose  you  could  raise  your 
hand ;  you  are  ill,  Mrs.  Murray  ;  I  will  not  be  responsible 
for  the  consequences  if  you  attempt  to  get  up." 

"  I  will  take  the  responsibility  on  my  own  shoulders  ; 
but  I  shall  rise.  I  have  that  to  say,  which  being  said  in 
bed  will  cause  my  speedy  death." 

"  Madam,  then  I  insist  on  your  recumbent  posture." 

"  But  ere  he  had  time  to  prevent  it,  without  any  aid,  she 
sat  bolt  upright  in  bed,  saying,  "  I  should  like  to  know 


106  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

who  is  to  dictate  to  me."  Then  she  commenced  speaking 
in  a  strong,  rather  shrill  voice  : 

"  O  Doctor,  I  know  that  that  cold,  haughty  boy  will  be 
the  death  of  me  at  last.  I  can  not  live  through  another 
such  a  scene." 

"What  is  it,  my  dear  madam?"  placing  his  finger  on 
her  pulse.  "  I  am  very  much  grieved ;  yet  it  can't  be 
helped.  You  would  have  to  undo  more  than  half,  maybe 
jour  whole  life,  before  you  could  get  things  straightened 
up.  You  have  been  prime  minister  at  home,  and  princi- 
pal actor  in  this  sad  drama  so  long,  now  you  must  fold 
your  arms  and  act  audience  while  the  plot  of  the  play  is 
played  out.  You  play  no  more,  and  there  is  no  help  for 
you  on  earth.  You  had  better  try  whether  you  can  get 
any  from  up  there,"  pointing  heavenward. 

"Are  you  done,  sir?  Now  let  me  talk,  if  your  sermon 
is  ended." 

"  Go  on,  madam." 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  how  that  wretched  boy  fright- 
ened me." 

The  good  doctor  seeing  that  she  was  about  to  go  off, 
shook  her  somewhat  rudely,  which  brought  her  to ;  then 
he  seated  himself  by  her  side,  and  thus  she  continued  to 
sob  and  talk : 

"  O  that  I  were  dead  !    O  that  I  could  be  at  rest !  " 

"It  would  be  as  well,"  quoth  the  doctor.  "  Eest  is  a 
very  desirable  thing.  Most  of  us  need  it,  and  all  like  it. 
I  wish  you  were  at  peace  (and  rest  too,"  muttered  he 
parenthetically,  "  then  you  could  cause  no  more  unrest  to 
the  good  and  innocent).  But  to  the  point:  "What  new 
trouble  has  turned  up  to-day,  madam?  " 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  give  me  strength  to  tell  it.  He  asked 
me  ;  oh,  he  asked  me  if  Marianna  Glencoe  was  dead." 

"  Well,"  responded  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  he  asked  me  in  that  low,  ominous  voice,  and  with 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  107 

that  thunder-cloud  look,  whether  I  still  asserted  that 
Marianna  Glencoe  was  dead." 
"  Well !  "  again  responded  he. 

"  Well !  indeed.  'Tis  not  well !  There  is  nothing  well ! 
and  I  don't  believe  there  ever  will  be  anything  well 
again.    I'm  sure  I  never  shall  be  " 

"  Amen  !  "  ejaculated  Doctor  Brown  ! 

"  I  hate  everybody  !  " 

"  Humph  !  I  don't  doubt  it,"  rejoined  he. 

"  You,  and  all  the  world  are  leagued  with  him ;  with 
Charles  Conrad  Murray.  Even  that  fool  Tivvy  has  begun 
to  leer  at  him." 

A  faint  smile  lurking  in  the  corners  of  the  doctor's 
mouth  seems  to  enrage  her. 

"  Yes,  you,  and  she,  and  all  of  them,  have  formed  a 
combination  against  me.  The  devils,  and  all  the  fiends  in 
hell  are  conspiring,  and  my  own  son  at  the  head  of  them," 
almost  shrieked  the  patient. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  added  he,  jocosely. 

But  now  he  found  he  had  this  time  indulged  his  vein 
of  ironical  humor  beyond  the  point  of  discretion.  It  was 
natural  to  him,  and  he  sometimes  used  it  with  a  view  to 
laugh  her  out  of  her  whimseys — generally  succeeding. 
She  must  now  be  soothed ;  but  ere  he  could  calm  her  per- 
turbation, she  relapses  into  hysteria.  She  is  ill,  and  must 
die,  if  the  most  efficient  means  are  not  used.  So  he  calls 
Tivvy,  who  was  waiting  at  the  door. 

"Now,  good  girl,  tell  James  to  prepare  a  hot  bath 
instantly,  and  have  it  here  in  the  shortest  possible  time. 

When  she  returned,  he  said,  "  Eemove  all  this  flummery; 
put  away  all  these  falsehoods  ;  "  indicating  Mrs.  Murray's 
face. 

Tivvy  looked  alarmed,  and  said,  "  Doctor  I  darsn't  do 
that,  'cept  she  be  about  going  off." 

"  I  tell  you,  girl,  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  She'll  be 
dead  before  we  get  the  bath,  I  fear." 


108  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

Just  then  James  and  the  cook  came  in  bringing  a  huge 
tub  with  steaming  waiter.  Soon  after  the  poor  creature 
(at  least  as  much  as  was  left  of  her  when  Tivvy  was 
done  "  taking  off  and  putting  away  ")  was  put  into  the 
bath,  her  struggles  ceased.  Well  they  might  —  she  had 
fainted. 

"  Call  in  Murray.  She's  gone,  I  do  believe  !  "  But  that 
order  seemed  to  rouse  her.  She  opened  her  eyes  and 
feebly  shook  her  head. 

"  Ha  !  didn't  I  tell  you  so?  I  believe  it  will  resurrect 
her  when  she  is  dead  sure  enough,"  said  the  lady's  maid. 

"  It  is  wonderful !  "  exclaimed  Doctor  Brown.  "  I  never 
saw  anything  like  it  in  my  life  before." 

"No,  I  reckon  not.  Nor  no  body  else  never  did, 
neither,"  says  Tivvy. 

When  the  poor  old  woman  found  herself  dismantled 
and  robbed  of  all  foreign  aids  and  disguises,  she  com- 
menced sobbing  and  wringing  her  hands,  and  screaming 
at  the  top  of  her  voice.  But  Doctor  Brown  and  the  faith- 
ful, though  frivolous  maid,  by  their  joint  efforts  succeeded 
in  quieting  this  violent  spasmodic  grief,  frenzy,  or  what- 
ever it  was.  He  then  placed  her  back  in  bed,  and  drugged 
her  heavily ;  so  she  soon  sunk  into  a  deep  sleep.  After 
feeling  her  pulse,  and  wTatching  her  for  a  few  moments,  he 
took  his  hat  and  left  the  room.  Tivvy  followed  him  out. 

"  Doctor  will  she  get  over  it?  "  The  girl  in  speaking  of 
her  mistress  invariably  used  the  pronoun  for  the  noun. 
Hence  the  habit  of  the  domestics  about  the  establishment 
was  to  say  she  and  her,  and  it  was  understood  at  once. 

"  Doctor,  will  she  get  well  ?  "  repeated  Tivvy. 

"  I  don't  know,  Tivvy.  That  is  with  them  up  yonder," 
pointing  to  heaven.  "But,  come,  my  good  girl,  and  tell 
all  about  it." 

No  sir,  I  can't;  'cause  I  don't  know.    I  wish  I  did." 
"Well,  are  you  on  your  mistress's  or  your  master's  side, 
girl  ?  " 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  109 

u  Lors  a  marcy !  bless  your  soul,  sir,  I  aint  on  nobody's 
side,  'cause  I  aint  acquainted  with  them  dark,  deep,  dread 
secrets  what's  always  eroding  on  her  poor  conscience,  and 
working  and  swurging  up  in  Mas'r  Charlie's  mind." 

"  Don't  Col.  Murray's  man  know  anything  about  the 
cause  of  these  singular  outbreaks  of  the  old  lady,  and  the 
settled  gloom  on  poor  Charles'  spirits?" 

u  Can't  say,  sir  ;  don't  think  anybody  knows  much  but 
they  ownselves.  But  I  do  knowr  one  thing  :  jest  as  soon 
as  she  wakes  out  of  that  sleep,  she  won't  hardly  wait  to 
fix  on  her  things,  before  she'll  send  me  right  off  after  old 
Faggot." 

"What,  that  old  Jew  Devil  ?  Old  fire  and  Faggot? 
You  don't  tell  me  so  ?  Why,  he  would  prove  a  second 
1  Merchant  of  Venice  '  toward  anybody  who  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  owe  him  a  dollar.  I  would  not  wish  the  great- 
est enemy  I  have  any  greater  hell  than  to  fall  into  the 
clutches  of  this  old  Faggot.  This  is  really  the  worst  fea- 
ture in  the  case.  Send  for  that  old  hell-hound  !  What 
does  she  want  with  him?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir ;  but  jest  as  soon  as  she  wakes  up, 
if  it's  even  midnight,  I'll  be  'spatched  after  him,  that's 
all." 

"  She  will  not  wake  to-night,  Tivvy ;  you  can  go  to 
sleep." 

"  Won't  she,  though  ?  Well,  I'm  sorry  for  her,  anyhow, 
but  what  a  life  I  lead.  Jest  think  of  it !  I'm  bound  to 
be  faithful  to  her,  but  she's  so  hard  to  serve.  Col.  Mur- 
ray is  not,  and  I  might  succeed  in  'scuring  his  favor  ef  I'd 
blab  ;  but  I  won't  'peach,  it's  so  mean." 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  know  nothing  in  the  world,  no 
how,  Tivvy?" 

The  girl  looked  down,  and  the  red  blood  mounted  to 
her  temples,  and  showed  itself  through  her  tawny  skin. 

"  Well !  no  more'n  I  don't.    Anyhow,  nobody  knows 


110  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

that  I  know  what  I  does  know,"  said  the  negro,  gloomily 
and  significantly. 

"  Tivvy,  does  Conrad  never  get  you  into  a  tight  place 
by  asking  you  questions  about  it?  " 

"  Question  me  !  Col.  Murray  question  and  'terrogate  a 
nigger  !  Now,  I  know,  doctor,  you  is  joking.  Why,  you 
jest  as  soon  think  that  one  of  them  golden  angels  from 
the  New  Jerusalem  would  come  down  and  hold  a  converse 
with  a  '  black-me-moor,'  as  Mas'r  Charles.  I  reckon  he'd 
knock  me  down  ef  I  was  to  tell  him  that  she  sent  me  after 
old  Faggot." 

"Never  mind,  then,  say  no  more.  I  thought  you  spoke 
of  telling  him  something,  and  I  presumed  on  that." 

"  So  I  did,  and  sometimes  I  think  I  ought ;  then  I  think 
I  oughtn't.  I  reckon,  though,  ef  he  ever  once  got  a 
inkling  of  what  I  knows,  he'd  listen." 

"  Well,  will  you  tell  him  ?  " 

u  I  don't  know,  I  can't  tell  'zactly  whether  it's  destina- 
ted  for  me  to  do  it  or  not ;  but  I  reckon  it  taint.  If  it  is 
my  destination  to  tell  him.,  I'll  be  forced  to  do  it.  If  not, 
I  can't.    Now,  that's  the  sum  total  of  the  matter." 

When  Doctor  Brown  passed  along  the  hall,  on  his  way 
out,  he  heard  the  slow,  measured  step  of  Murray  in  the 
parlor,  as  he  paced  the  room.  He  looked  in.  At  first  he 
did  not  raise  his  eyes,  and  knew  not  that  the  doctor  was 
there  until  the  latter  spoke. 

"  Ah !  my  dear  sir,  I'm  very  hapj)y  to  see  you ;  take  a 
seat.    How  is  my  mother?  " 

"  Doing  very  well  now,  sir ;  but  she's  been  bad, — bad 
indeed  ;  pretty  nigh  gone,  when  I  arrived." 

"  Good  God !  why  was  I  not  called  ?  " 

"  Couldn't,"  answered  the  doctor,  frowning. 

"But  why?" 

"  Can't  tell,  don't  know.  If  you  don't  know  yourself, 
I've  no  right  to  know.    Good  night,  sir,"  said  the  good, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Ill 


upright,  well-meaning,  but  bustling  little  Doctor  Brown, 
who  left  the  magnificent  Murray  to  his  own  somber  reflec- 
tions, and  plods  on  his  way  cheerily,  doing  his  duty. 

Murray  continued  to  pace  the  room. 

"  Oh  !  God  !  to  think  that  after  this  lapse  of  years,  in 
which  I  have  so  honored  and  loved  my  mother,  I  should 
now  be  forced  to  doubt  her  truth  — that  my  faith  should 
be  shaken  in  my  own  mother,  who  was  my  standard.  Oh  ! 
my  soul  is  very  dark." 

He  sits  down,  meekly  leaning  on  his  hand  and  weeps. 
Yes,  that  proud,  cold,  and  sometimes  stern  man,  who  in 
the  world  bears  himself  so  grandly,  sits  there  and  weeps 
over  what  he  thinks  is  his  mother's  first  dereliction  from 
her  exalted  morality.  There  is  so  much  that  is  incompre- 
hensible, such  dark,  deep  mystery ;  her  violent  agitation  ; 
her  startled  and  bewildered  look,  when  he  asked  her  that 
question. 

He  starts  up  wildly,  strikes  his  clenched  hand  against 
his  forehead,  and  rushes  from  the  house.  When  in  the 
street,  he  finds  all  very  quiet  and  peaceful.  The  gentle 
moon  hangs  in  the  heavens,  shining  on  calmly  and  sweetly. 
The  few  little  stars  that  have  not  been  forced  to  hide 
their  diminished  heads  in  her  superior  light,  seem  to  twin- 
kle with  gladness.  The  rude  northern  blast  is  hushed,  or 
only  heard  in  distant  moanings.  All  nature  is  sleeping 
and  being  renovated  for  the  duties  of  the  coming  day. 
Only  man,  vile  man  is  restless  and  perturbed. 

Murray  walks  on  regardless  of  all ;  alike  heedless  of 
time  or  place,  until  he  arrives  at  that  portion  of  the  city 
where  the  houses  are  old  and  moldering  to  decay.  In 
one  little  window  of  an  old  hovel  a  faint  light  glimmers. 

"  Ha !  "  with  a  sudden  recollection.  "  Ha  !  It  was  here 
on  this  spot,  through  that  little  window,  that  I  gazed  on 
that  vision  of  beauty.  Her  semblance — Oh,  how  perfect ! 
"Who  can  she  be  ?  Would  that  I  knew !  If  Marianna  be 
dead  (and  it  must  be  so),  then  who  is  this?" 


112 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  II . 


He  was  roused  from  his  r every  by  a  groan,  or  rather  a 
deep-drawn  sigh  near  him.  By  the  light  of  that  sweet 
moon  he  descries  a  huge  figure,  clad  in  coarse  furs,  leaning 
against  the  lamp-post.  Ere  he  had  time  to  accost  him,  he 
had  glided  away. 

Murray  now  takes  his  place,  and  peers  keenly  into  the 
window  ;  but  nothing  is  revealed.  All  within  is  still  and 
dark. 

He  returns  home.  On  entering  the  house  a  feverish 
desire  to  see  his  mother  seizes  upon  him.  He  calls  to 
mind,  that  since  his  childhood  he  has  never  been  permit- 
ted to  enter  that  chamber  unannounced,  and  then  some- 
times after  long  delay.  Yet  he  seems  unable  to  resist  the 
affectionate  impulse  of  his  kind  nature.  He  steals  softly 
to  the  door  —  hesitates.  Is  this  wrong?  Is  it  a  violation 
of  any  law  save  that  of  foolish  etiquette,  for  a  son  to 
approach  his  sick  mother  uncalled?  Oh,  no!  Nature, 
duty,  religion  —  all  would  sanction  this  act. 

He  enters.  A  small  flame  of  gas  issues  from  the  burner, 
intended  for  a  night-lamp.  Everything  is  arranged  with 
great  precision  —  for  Tivvy  is  well  trained.  She  has 
fallen  asleep  in  that  gorgeous  rocking-chair.  Her  head 
droops  on  one  side ;  one  hand  hangs  over  the  arm,  her 
foot  is  on  the  velvet  stool — just  the  attitude  in  which,  her 
mistress  always  dozed.  Tivvy  was  an  ardent  admirer  of 
Mrs.  Murray's  grand  ways,  and  aped  them. 

He  bestows  one  look  of  kindly  indulgence  on  the  sleep- 
ing maid  :  then  turns  to  the  bed.  "What  means  that  start? 
that  bewildered  look? 

"  <  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us  ! '  What  do 
I  behold?  Where  is  my  mother?  Tivvy — good  girl, 
come  here.    Get  up,  Tivvy." 

He  shakes  her  violently,  but  she  slumbers  on. 

Murray  jerks  her  up,  and  at  the  same  time  catching  up 
a  glass  of  water,  dashes  it  fiercely  into  her  face.  She  opens 
her  eyes,  and  stares  distractedly  at  him. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


113 


u  Lord  a  marcy !  Mas'r  Charles  Conrad  Murray  —  yon 
in  here,  and  she  undressed.  Oh,  pray,  sir,  go  out.  Oh, 
she'll  sell  me  to  the  'soul  drivers,'  away  from  James  Eoss, 
my  'spoused  husband,'  if  she  finds  it  out."  She  drops  on 
her  knees,  sobbing  out  —  "Oh,  Mas'r  Charles,  would  you 
bring  all  this  sorrow  and  disgrace  on  a  poor  'fianced  nig- 
ger maiden.  I  tell  you,  Mas'r  Conrad,  we's  got  feelings 
and  'fections,  same  as  you,  if  our  skins  is  black." 

"  Hush,  Tivvy !  my  mother  will  never  know  I  have 
come  in  to  see  her  a  moment  at  midnight,  because  she 
spurned  me  from  the  door  yesterday.  I  came  in  to  crave 
her  blessing.  I  can  not  exist  while  estranged  from  her." 

"  How  did  you  git  in?    I  thought  I  fastened  the  door." 

"  No,  I  came  by  that  door,  and  not  through  the  key- 
hole, as  your  alarmed  looks  would  indicate.  Calm  your- 
self ;  no  harm  shall  come  to  you.  Now,  Tivvy,  come 
here,  and  tell  me  who  this  care-worn,  emaciated,  misera- 
ble-looking aged  person  is  ?  and  wThere  is  my  handsome 
mother?  "  He  drags  the  maid  to  the  bedside,  and  points 
to  old  Mrs.  Murray,  now  unmasked. 

"  Why,  Mas'r  Charlie,  is  you  losing  your  nine  senses 
that  away?  Why  that's  her ;  your  own  grand,  aristocrati- 
cus  mother,  and  my  poor  old  Mistress.  Indeed,  that's 
her." 

"  Oh  no,  girl !  it  can't  be ;  I  can  not  recognize  my  fine- 
looking  mother  in  that  wasted  form  there." 

"  It's  her  though,  Mas'r  Charlie,  notwithstanding,  never- 
theless, for  all  that." 

"  Poor  mother,"  says  he,  dropping  on  his  knees,  "  have 
I  done  this?  My  asking  that  one  question,  has  it  caused 
this  fearful  spoliation  ?  Is  remorse,  then,  so  voracious 
as  to  swallow  up  all  thy  good  looks  in  one  night?  "  He 
kisses  his  mother's  withered  hand,  and  weeps  again. 

"  Oh  Luddy!  Oh  Lucldy!  Mas'r  Charles,  what  makes 
you  take  on  so?  you  didn't  do  nothing  to  her;  she's  only 
10 


114 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


got  all  her  things  off.  She  looks  just  that  away  every 
night.    Come,  hush  up,  now.    Look,  here  she  is  !  " 

She  raised  the  lid  of  a  dressing-case,  and  disclosed  to 
the  wonder-stricken  man  those  marvelous  works  of  art, 
by  whose  power  the  old  and  ugly  are  rejuvenated  and 
made  pretty. 

"  Oh,  Tivvy,  I  am  amazed.  What  are  these?"  toying 
w^ith  the  different  cosmetics,  and  pointing  to  the  pearly 
teeth. 

"  He!  he!  he!"  giggled  the  negro.  "  Why  them's  her 
fixins,  wrhat  reforms  her  into  a  middle  aged  handsome 
lady.  .  .  .  The  Lord  of  Hosties !  I've  done  let  it  out ! 
I  did'nt  never  mean  to  tell!  Oh  !  oh  !  That's  one  of  her 
secrets  what  she's  always  been  a  keeping  from  her  own 
son.  Oh,  Mas'r  Charles,  she'll  burn,  or  hang  me  alive,  if 
she  hears." 

He  could  not  refrain  from  bursting  out  into  a  spasmodic 
laugh, the  girl's  terror  was  so  ludicrous. 

Now  the  patient  moved ;  roused  perhaps  by  that  un- 
natural cachinnation.  She  mutters  "  Tivvy,  Tivvy,  come 
here  —  don't  you  know  I  can't  speak?  Yes.  Well,  tell 
him  to  come,  but  under  cover  of  night,  mind  you.  The 
usurious  Jew  dog  !  I  must  see  him  once  more,  anyhow. 
Accursed  dog,  of  an  accursed  race!  "  She  opens  her  eyes; 
they  fall  on  her  son. 

"  Well,  Faggot — you  are  here,  are  you?  Did  any  one 
see  you  enter?  How,  old  infidel!  methinks  you  are  look- 
ing wondrous  well,  to-night?  " 

Tivvy  jumps  at  Col.  Murray  and  forces  him  out,  shuts 
the  door,  and  locks  it.  When  she  returns  to  the  bed-side, 
her  mistress  has  fallen  asleep.  The  maid  seats  herself  in 
the  same  luxurious  arm  chair,  draws  a  long  breath,  and 
ejaculates  to  herself — 

"  Well :  I  know  I'm  a  poor,  ruinated,  done  up  nigger ! 
if  Mas'r  Charlie  Conrad  Murray  was  like  everybody  else." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH, 


115 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A    YOUNG    RAYEN  FED. 

"  Speak  gently,  kindly,  to  the  poor ; 
Let  no  harsh  term  be  heard  ; 
They  have  enough  they  must  endure, 
Without  an  unkind  word." 

Doctor  Brown  was  roused  the  morning  after  the  pre- 
ceding events  by  a  messenger,  but  before  he  had  dressed, 
or  even  made  his  ablutions  our  friend  Murdoch,  alias 
"  the  bear-skin  man,"  alias  the  Night  Watch,  made  his 
appearance  in  the  doctor's  sleeping  room. 

"  Ha !  Murdoch,  you  are  early,  and  you  come  unan- 
nounced ;  but  you  are  welcome,  Murdoch,  for  I  know  a 
good  and  true  heart  beats  under  that  savage,  wild  beast 
hide  of  yours." 

u  Thank  you,  doctor  ;  but  I  didn't  come  to  bandy  com- 
pliments.   I  come  on  business." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  you  are  equally  welcome.  What 
is  it?" 

The  man  hesitates,  and  his  face  grows  fiery  red,  and  his 
eyes  glow  like  the  live  coals  in  the  grate. 

A  quick  perception  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  hiding 
places  of  that  rough  man's  heart,  takes  hold  of  the  little 
doctor,  and  he  chokes  down  a  disposition  to  laugh  out 
right. 

Murdoch,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  sprang  up, 
and  seized  him  by  the  arm,  exclaiming  angrily,  "  What 
are  you  laughing  at,  sir  ?  God  knows,  it  is  no  laughing 
matter." 


116 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  You  are  a  fool,  Murdoch.  I  am  not  laughing  at  you ; 
my  throat,  these  frosty  mornings,  gets  full  of  phlegm." 

The  Night  Watch  reseats  himself,  looking  very  much 
abashed,  still  eyeing  the  doctor  with  distrust. 

"  Come,  come,  man  !  tell  me.  I'm  called  this  morning, 
else  I'd  not  be  out  of  bed  so  early.  How  can  I  be  of  ser- 
vice to  you?" 

"Why  I  called  this  morning  —  I  called  —  I  —  I  just 
called,"  and  then  he  fairly  broke  down. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  did,"  says  the  doctor,  coming  to  the 
fire.  But  finding  his  companion  to  be  overcome  by  some 
strange  embarrassment,  he  abruptly  led  to  the  subject, 
which  he  sees  is  making  such  a  boy  of  the  man. 

"  See  here,  Murdoch,  I  have  been  so  occupied,  that  I 
have  not  had  time  to  call  again  to  see  our  beautiful  patient 
down  Market  street.    Can  you  tell  me  how  she  is  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  is  that  which  has  brought  me  here  this  morn- 
ing, so  early.  I  havn't  seen  her  since,  either;  but  good 
little  Minny  Dun  says  she's  powerful  bad  off.  Minny  is 
in  and  out  every  hour,  and  helps  them  a  great  deal. 
That's  a  great  little  creature,  that  Minny  Dun.  Now, 
Dr.  Brown,  you've  been  acquainted  with  Murdoch,  the 
Night  Watch,  a  long  time." 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  him  to  do  a  dishonest  or  mean 
act?" 
"No." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  him  to  tell  a  lie  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Good !     Did  you   ever  know  him  to  do  a  foolish 
thing  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  What?  "  says  the  other,  starting  up. 

"  Oh,  sit  down,  Murdoch,  and  tell  your  tale  out,  for  God's 
sake !  I  have  only  five  minutes  more  to  wait,"  looking 
at  his  watch. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  117 

"  You  know,  also,  doctor,  that  I  am  a  poor  man ;  but 
you  didn't  know,  I  reckon,  that  poverty  can  keep  a  little 
fund  for  charity,  did  you,  doctor?  " 

"No — yes  —  I  don't  know  whether  I  did  or  not; 
go  on." 

The  man  stretches  himself  out,  and  taking  from  his 
breeches  pocket  a  soiled  silk  purse,  indifferently  well  filled 
with  small  silver  and  gold  coin,  chucks  it  into  the  open 

palm  of  the  doctor,  "There!  "  wipes  his  eyes  with  his 

coat-sleeve,  rises,  and  is  about  to  depart  without  further 
explanation. 

"  Stop,  my  friend,  I  have  no  bill  against  you.  What 
does  this  mean  ?  " 

He  returns,  looks  fixedly  at  the  doctor,  while  the  blood 
again  rushes  to  his  face,  his  temples,  and  even  to  his  eyes  ; 
then  drawing  quite  near  to  him,  whispers,  "  Supply  that 
poor  lady  with  all  she  needs  for  herself  and  family.  Give 
her  every  attention,  furnish  all  medicines,  and  save  her ! 
Oh,  save  her  doctor !  and  I'll  bind  myself  to  you  for  life. 
Excuse  me,  sir  ;"  dropping  his  eyes  under  the  astonished 
gaze  of  his  companion.  Then  again,  lowering  his  voice 
to  a  gentle  monotone,  "  I  mean  I'll  become  general  pay- 
master." Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  hurries  from 
the  house. 

The  doctor  looks  after  him,  exclaiming,  "  There  goes 
the  noblest  work  of  God  !  His  best  mechanism  was  used 
to  form  the  heart  of  that  brawny,  rough  fellow.  Would 
I  were  rich  !  he,  nature's  nobleman,  should  not  pace  these 
streets  all  night,  in  such  strict  fidelity  to  his  office,  cry- 
ing, £  All's  well,'  when,  as  poor  old  Mrs.  Murray  says,  'all 
never  is  well.'  Satan  himself  is  oftentimes  let  loose  in 
these  streets,  and  then  of  course  1  is  to  pay.'  Still  that  hon- 
est Night  Watch  on  his  way,  having  hushed  the  uproar, 
and  smothered  the  devil,  cries,  'All's  well.'  Good,  upright 
soul !  that's  the  only  lie  I  ever  knew  him  tell.  Just  so 
soon  as  I  have  made  this  visit,  I  will  call  to  see  his  1  lady- 


118 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


love;'  for  by  heavens!  that  savage  'bear-skin'  is  head 
over  heels  in  love  with  the  divine  creature.  How  tame 
he  has  become  under  its  influence  !  As  docile  as  a  lamb, 
a  dove,  or  a  new  born  babe." 

When  Dr.  Brown  had  made  his  visit  to  the  patient 
above  mentioned,  he  turned  his  steps  toward  that  lowly 
cot.  On  arriving,  the  door  is  opened  by  the  same  beauti- 
ful boy  with  the  golden  curls. 

"  Come  in,  sir  ;  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  says  the 
dear  little  fellow,  as  he  waves  him  in. 

"  How  is  your  mother,  my  darling  ?  " 

"  I  think,  sir,  she  is  better.    Come  and  see." 

He  leads  the  doctor  to  his  mother,  who'  looks  at  the 
lady  with  an  expression  of  surprise  as  well  as  admiration. 

"  How  are  you  to-day,  Mrs.  Wise  ?  " 

u  Thank  you,  sir,  better  now."  And  she  drops  those 
curtains,  those  long,  silken  fringes  over  her  heavenly  blue 
eyes,  thereby  concealing  them  from  the  ardent  gaze  of 
the  mercurial  little  man.  Those  singularly  fascinating 
eyes  seemed  to  exercise  a  sort  of  mesmeric  influence  over 
every  beholder.  I  scarcely  think  the  lady  was  aware  of 
this  power.    We  know  that  she  did  not  intend  to  use  it. 

While  the  doctor  busies  himself  in  finding  and  counting 
that  feeble  pulse,  he  devours  her  face  and  person  with  his 
glances.  Oh !  how  exquisitely  beautiful  he  thinks  her ; 
even  that  word  becomes  tame  and  insufficient  when  ap- 
plied to  that  incomparable  woman.  Her  rich,  dark  hair 
has  escaped  from  under  the  little  snowy  cap  ;  her  arms  and 
neck  are  enveloped  in  a  loose  drapery  of  fine  white  linen ; 
all  the  other  surroundings,  as  she  lay  there  so  calm  and 
peaceful,  are  also  replete  with  purity  ;  while  chaste  refine- 
ment is  blended  with  severe  simplicity.  Even  the  atmos- 
phere seems  rarified  and  purer  than  elsewhere.  In  a  small 
vase  by  the  bedside  is  a  sweet  rose,  and  a  few  geranium 
leaves. 

"  Ha  !  roses  and  green  leaves  ?  "  taking  them  up. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Wise,  opening  her  eyes  only 
again  to  meet  the  fervent,  admiring  look  of  her  com- 
panion. 

"  Where  did  you  get  them  ?  " 

"  Dear  Minny  brought  them,  I  think,  from  heaven. 
Indeed,  sir,  she  must  have  dropped  down  from  that  place. 
None  but  a  ministering  angel  could  be  as  good,  and  do 
exactly  as  she  does.    Did  you  ever  see  Minny,  Doctor  ?  " 

"No —  yes  —  I  think  I  did  meet  her  here  a  few  days 
ago,  mam." 

"  You  would  not  think  her  pretty  at  first,  but  when  you 
come  to  know  her  as  well  as  I  do,  you  would  be  sure  to 
love  her,  and  think  her  the  prettiest  creature  in  all  the 
world." 

"  One  exception,  I'd  make  one  exception,"  said  he, 
snatching  up  her  hand,  intending  to  carry  it  to  his  lips  ; 
but  finding  the  delicate  creature  recoil  from  this  rudeness, 
he  placed  his  finger  on  her  pulse  again. 

A  neatly-spread  breakfast  table  occupied  one  corner  of 
the  room  ;  a  nice,  cheerful  little  fire  blazed  in  the  grate. 
The  child's  clothes  looked  clean  and  comfortable,  thanks 
to  little  Minny  Dun,  and  he  and  his  mother  are  certainly 
very  beautiful. 

Presently  the  old  lady  came  in  from  the  shed,  her 
sleeves  rolled  up  over  her  elbows,  a  clean  white  apron  on. 
She  proclaims  her  occupation  in  the  kitchen  by  her  cold, 
red  hands,  and  the  napkin  thrown  across  her  shoulders. 

Doctor  Brown  sees  nothing  to  indicate  want ;  is  there- 
fore afraid  to  intimate  to  the  inmates  of  the  place  the 
beneficent  purpose  of  that  poor  Night  Watch,  or  to  make 
any  overtures  of  the  sort  on  his  own  behalf.  Still  his 
heart  is  swelling  with  the  most  generous  promptings. 
He  resolves  to  call  again  the  same  night,  and  if  possible 
find  some  mode  by  which  he  can  put  his  benevolent  im- 
pulses into  practice. 


120 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Ah  !  little  did  he  know  what  pinching  poverty,  what 
fearful  want  was  concealed  under  that  pleasing  exterior. 
The  old  lady  had  just  cooked  the  last  morsel  of  food,  that 
poor  invalid  had  used  the  last  grain  of  tea,  and  the  last 
cup  is  quaffed  in  its  crude  state.  The  night  before  they 
had  used  the  last  candle,  this  morning  burned  the  last 
piece  of  coal,  and  the  last  splinter  of  wood  has  been  used 
to  prepare  that  meager  breakfast.  Moreover,  the  last 
dime  had  been  sent  to  the  post-office,  hoping  the  letter 
advertised  might  be  the  one  so  long  looked  for :  but 
instead  of  which  comes  an  insulting  declaration  from  some 
roue  of  the  city,  who  had  heard  of  her  marvelous  beauty, 
and,  as  he  asserted  had  seen  her  at  the  window. 

Still  the  grandmother  complains  not;  not  a  feeling  of 
distrust  finds  an  abiding  place  in  that  good  old  trusting 
bosom.  The  child  is  instructed  to  keep  all  a  secret  from 
his  mother.  But  what  are  they  to  do  ?  The  invalid  must 
be  kept  warm.  She  must  have  nourishing  diet,  and  above 
all,  she  must  not  be  disturbed.  After  the  old  lady  has 
waited  on  her  children,  and  restored  all  things  to  their 
former  tidy  state,  she  sits  down  to  deliberate.  "  I  can 
not,  I  wTill  not  tax  dear  Minny,  further.  She  has  not  only 
given  us  her  sympathy,  and  her  time,  but  her  substance 
also.  I  must  hide  our  present  necessities  from  her,  else 
will  she  take  the  bread  from  her  own  mouth  to  feed  us." 

"Grandma,"  says  the  child,  "mamma  has  fallen  asleep 
now,  let  me  steal  away  and  try  to^find  something  to  do  to 
make  a  few  cents  for  you  and  her.  Can't  I  work  some, 
grandma  ?  " 

"  Sweet  darling,  what  sort  of  work  could  you  do,  with 
your  baby  hands?  Sit  down,  child,  God  will  help  us 
again  in  his  own  good  time.  Eemember,  dear  one,  '  He 
feeds  the  young  ravens,  and  clothes  the  lilies  of  the  field, 
which  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin.'  " 

So  poor  Clarence  sat  down  and  twirled  his  little  cap, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


121 


and  sung  a  little  song.  Yet  that  dear  child  scarce  ate  a 
morsel  that  morning,  so  fearful  was  he  that  he  might  be 
taking  from  his  mother  or  grandmother. 

Presently,  Myra  said,  in  a  weary,  faint  voice,  "  Dear 
grandma,  can't  you  give  me  a  cracker,  I  think  I  could 
eat  now." 

The  child  knew  there  was  not  such  a  thing  in  the  house. 
He  goes  up  to  his  mother,  kisses  her  affectionately,  then 
slips  out  of  the  room.  He  runs  on  without  seeming  to 
have  any  definite  object  in  view.  The  cold  is  pinching, 
and  the  tears  are  forced  from  that  little  Spartan  soul.  He 
still  moves  on ;  he  will  not  beg,  and  he  does  not  know 
where  to  ask  for  employment. 

Presently,  he  comes  to  a  large  house  against  which  a 
boy  is  pasting  up  bills.  He  stops  and  reads  :  "  Wanted,  a 
child  about  six  years  old,  to  take  a  simple  part  in  the 
following  plays,  etc."  While  he  stands  there  weeping, 
and  reading  by  turns,  the  manager  comes  up. 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  little  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  am  reading  this  advertisement." 

"Yes." 

"  I  think  I  could  do  what  is  required  here." 
"Well?" 

"  And  would  like  to  engage,  but  my  mother  is  starving 
and  freezing  to  death  at  this  moment,  so  that  " 

"  Oh  yes  :  so  are  many  others,  my  son.  Still  the  pub- 
lic's maw  must  be  catered  to.  Their  appetites  must  be 
coaxed,  if  ten  thousand  mothers  freeze  and  starve  to 
death." 

The  child  turned  away.  He  had  scarcely  passed  the 
angle  of  the  wall  before  he  is  accosted  by  another  person. 

"  How  old  are  you,  my  little  man?"  said  this  stranger, 
taking  his  hand. 

u  Six  years  old,  sir." 

"  Can  you  read,  my  dear,  and  sing  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir." 
11 


122  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

"  Then  come  with  me."  He  leads  him  into  the  box- 
office  ;  for  that  large,  rambling  old  house  is  tho  theater, 
and  that  man  is  the  first  manager.  When  seated,  he  takes 
the  child  between  his  knees,  and  reads  him  the  adver- 
tisement. 

"  Yes  sir,  I  have  just  been  reading  it,  and  was  thinking 
of  asking  for  the  place  ;  but  I  can't  wait  for  the  pay  ;  "  and 
he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Why,  to-morrow  morning  is  not  so  long,  my  son ; 
then  you  shall  have  it." 

The  poor  orphan  looked  at  him,  and  then  remembering 
the  rebuff  he  had  received  from  the  man  on  the  street, 
he  hid  his  face  between  his  hands  and  continued  to  weep. 

"  My  little  friend  you  shall  have  your  pay,  all  in  good 
time." 

Clarence  peeped  over  his  hands  at  the  speaker,  and 
seeing  nothing  in  his  face  but  benevolence,  sobbed  out, 

"  O  sir !  by  to-morrow  my  dear  mother  may  be  dead. 
She  is  starving  and  freezing  to  death,  I  fear,  at  this 
moment.  If  I  do  not  find  some  way  to  make  a  few  cents 
to  carry  home  to  her  she  will  be  gone.  She  has  been  very 
ill,  and  now  needs  a  few  little  nice  things,  which  we  have 
not,  and  can't  get.  Dear  sir,  if  you  would  only  give  me  a 
little  piece  of  money  in  advance,  I  promise  you,  upon  the 
honor  of  a  gentleman's  son,  that  I  will  come  back  and 
work  for  you  —  bring  coal,  or  wood,  or  do  anything  that 
is  respectable." 

"  What  then  is  your  father's  name,  my  child?" 

Poor  little  Clarence  hung  down  his  head,  looking 
troubled.  "  I  don't  want  to  say,  sir.  My  mother  don't 
wish  me  to  speak." 

The  man  dashed  a  tear  from  his  own  eyes,  takes  a 
sovereign  from  his  pocket,  gives  it  to  the  child,  embraces 
him,  and  says,  "  I  will  trust  to  that  gentleman's  son,  who- 
ever he  may  be." 

"  I'll  come  back.    Oh  sir,  I'll  come  back ;  if  life  is  spared 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


123 


me,  I'll  come  back."  He  throws  up  his  little  cap,  and 
shouts  loudly,  dancing  about  the  floor,  "  huzza !  huzza  !  " 
then  darts  into  the  street. 

The  man  had  watched  him  with  an  artist's  eye,  and 
marked  him  for  his  own. 

"Why  sir,  that  child  will  prove  a  treasure  to  us.  He 
will  bring  us  crowded  houses  for  six  months.  Did  you 
observe  him,  sir?  He  is  the  most  beautiful  and  graceful 
creature  I  ever  beheld.  Besides,  I  think  he  has  genius, 
and  a  decided  vocation  for  the  stage." 

"  Maybe  so  ;  we'll  see,"  said  the  second  manager. 

Meantime  Clarence  had  run  all  the  way  home ;  on 
reaching  there  he  was  almost  exhausted.  He  found  the 
old  lady  sitting  wrhere  he  left  her ;  he  falls  into  her  arms 
and  laughs  wildly,  at  the  same  time  showing  her  the 
money. 

"  Ah  !  dear  child,  didn't  I  say  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  you  did,  grandma,  and  I  begin  to  think 
that  I  am  a  sure-enough  '  young  raven.'  You  know  I've 
been  fed  so  often.   Will  I  begin  to  croak  presently,  mam  ?  " 

"  God  bless  our  beautiful  treasure !  " 

In  a  moment  after,  he  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  floor. 
The  old  lady  puts  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl  to  go  out  for 
the  purpose  of  laying  in  a  stock  of  provisions.  When  she 
returns  both  mother  and  child  are  sleeping  soundly  and 
sweetly.  She  takes  the  boy  up  very  tenderly,  and  places 
him  on  the  bed. 


124 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  SIREN. 

"  Oh  !  how  the  passions,  insolent  and  strong, 
Bear  our  weak  minds  their  course  along  ; 
Make  us  the  madness  of  their  will  obey, 
Then  die  and  leave  us  to  our  griefs  a  prey." 

We  now  return,  after  a  lapse  of  some  weeks,  to  the 
beautiful  but  haughty  Miss  Lindsay.  During  this  inter- 
val she  has  had  many  alternations  of  feeling.  Sometimes 
throwing  off  the  incubus  which  hung  over  her,  she  gets 
the  better  of  the  mortification,  grief,  and  chagrin  induced 
by  the  seeming  disdain  of  her  lover ;  then  she  plunges 
into  dissipation,  and  flirts  with  all  sorts  of  men ;  listens 
to  the  impassioned  love-making  of  the  polished  young 
dandy,  Mr.  Josiah  Gaines  ;  coquets  with  some  dozen  oth- 
ers, and  in  a  fit  of  madness  makes  overtures  to  the  Gov- 
ernor. But  just  as  surely  does  she  return  home  to  weep 
and  toss  the  whole  night  on  that  bed  of  thorns,  made  so 
by  self-reproach  and  wounded  pride. 

She  rarely  now  meets  Col.  Murray  at  any  of  those  fash- 
ionable resorts.  Sometimes  he  would  glide  by  when  she 
was  engrossed  with  her  frivolous  pleasures ;  perhaps 
surrounded  by  her  satellites,  some  ten  or  a  dozen  things, 
who,  like  moths,  seek  to  buzz  around  the  brightest  light, 
thinking  it  honor  enough  to  get  their  wings  singed,  and 
those  little  dried  up  things,  which  beat  so  faintly  in  the 
place  where  a  heart  ought  to  throb,  scorched  by  that 
blaze  of  beauty,  the  reigning  belle.  Miss  Gertrude  Lind- 
say is  worth  half  a  million  of  dollars  in  her  own  right; 
is  pretty,  nay,  I  should  rather  say  handsome ;  is  stylish 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  125 

and  accomplished,  and  has  received  the  niast  finished  edu- 
cation in  the  French  school  of  etiquette,  with  all  the  various 
and  multifarious  conventionalities  appertaining  thereto. 
She  dresses  magnificently.  Her  temper  is  imperious  and 
exacting,  nay,  as  despotic  as  an  autocrat,  where  she 
can  exercise  power.  She  has  great  strength  of  will,  and 
some  strength  of  mind,  when  not  overruled,  or  obscured 
by  her  passions,  which  are  very  violent.  Her  heart  — 
well,  her  heart,  we  will  leave  that  to  the  great  "  Searcher 
of  hearts." 

When  she  would  thus  meet  Murray  in  the  giddy  throng, 
he  never  seemed  to  notice  or  care  what  her  pursuits  were, 
or  with  whom  she  might  be ;  but  would  smile  faintly, 
bow  slightly,  and  pass  on,  never  stopping  to  speak. 

Once  she  was  so  reckless,  or  forgetful  of  all  true  wo- 
manly dignity  as  to  follow  him,  and  slip  a  note  into  his 
hand.  This  note  had  been  carefully  prepared  at  home, 
artfully  to  bear  the  marks  of  haste  and  agitation,  as  an 
impromptu. 

"  Dear  Conrad  —  In  God's  name,  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this  treatment?  "What  have  I  done?  I  challenge  you 
to  bring  the  charge.  The  merest  culprit  may  meet  his 
accusers  and  hope  for  justice,  but  I  am  doomed  to  endure 
a  foretaste  of  the  damned,  without  knowing  wherefore. 
In  an  hour  more  I  shall  feign  sickness  (God  knows  it 
will  be  no  feint :  a  real  sickness  of  the  heart  I  have  at 
times).  I  shall  presently  brush  off  these  musquitoes,  and 
return  home.  Meet  me  there  in  my  boudoir.  You  must 
come,  Charles.  I  find  I  can  not  live  in  this  state  of  in- 
certitude. Shall  I  expect  you?  or  will  you  disappoint 
me  again  ? 

"  P.  S.  Ann  will  meet  you  at  the  door. 

Gertrude." 

Murray  had  withdrawn  from  the  crowd,  to  read  the 


126 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


note,  not  with  the  whirlwind  impatience  of  a  lover,  but 
with  that  chivalrous  respect  which  every  high-toned  gen- 
tleman feels  for  the  sex ;  together  with  a  sense  of  duty, 
calling  for  a  sacrifice  of  personal  comfort  for  the  time  being, 
to  the  demands  of  any  lady  who  might  chance  to  need 
his  attention.  He  smiled  a  little  bit  scornfully.  "Poor 
Gertrude,"  thought  he,  w  so  proud,  so  arrogant  to  all  oth- 
ers !    Where  is  now  your  vaunted  independence?  " 

He  folded  his  arms,  and  was  falling  into  abstraction, 
when  he  was  roused  by  a  commotion  in  the  adjoining 
room.  Presently  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  came 
through  the  hall  where  he  was  standing.  He  caught  a 
few  words  :  "  Hold  up  her  head.  Don't  let  her  arms  drag 
so.  Mr.  Gaines,  don't  hold  her  so  tightly."  Gertrude 
had  fainted  really,  and  Murray  saw  his  affianced  bride  in 
the  arms  of  the  most  consummate  fop,  and  the  veriest 
roue  in  the  city  —  Messrs.  Gaines  and  Calderwood.  Her 
head  was  resting  on  the  shoulder  of  the  former,  and  as 
he  turned  his  to  speak  to  his  co-worker  in  this  labor  of 
love,  his  lips  came  in  contact  with  the  alabaster  forehead 
of  the  lady. 

But  Murray  looked  on  without  emotion ;  not  a  troubled 
wave  of  jealousy  swept  over  his  breast  at  the  sight.  He 
smiled,  and  maybe  his  luxuriant  moustache  did  move  with 
a  little  ripple  of  scorn. 

They  passed  on.  Then  he  leisurely  walked  to  the 
cloak-room,  takes  his,  wraps  it  about  him,  and  without 
the  least  impatience  wends  his  way  to  meet  his  lady-love. 
Oh  !  what  mockery  ! 

On  arriving,  Ann  meets  him  at  the  street  door.  He  is 
not  suffered  to  ring  the  bell. 

"Don't  make  a  noise,  please,"  says  Ann. 

"  Why,  is  your  mistress  so  ill  ?  " 

"  I  don't. know,  sir ;  she  told  me  to  say  dat ;  now  I  done 
say  it,  I  can't  not  follow  up,  and  comperhend  Miss  Gut- 
trude." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


127 


"  Where  is  your  master?  " 

The  girl  nodded  toward  his  room. 

Murray  frowned  darkly  ;  all  was  explained.  This  was 
to  be  a  clandestine  meeting,  and  he  was  not  pleased. 

The  girl  opened  her  mistress's  door  very  softly,  and 
then  vanished. 

'Now  to  any  other  man  than  the  pre-occupied,  unloving 
one  before  us,  the  scene  which  breaks  on  his  vision  would 
have  been  one  of  ravishing  delight  and  bewilderment. 
The  appointments  of  the  lady's  boudoir  are  in  keeping 
with  herself.  Magnificent  sofas,  divans,  chairs,  etc.,  all  of 
blue  silk  plush ;  curtains  of  cerulean  hue,  richly  wrought 
in  delicate  colors,  portraying  classic  scenes.  A  delicious 
perfume  is  breathed  throughout  the  apartment.  The  gas 
is  reduced,  and  made  to  send  forth  a  mellowed  light. 
Under  that  gorgeous  burner  stands  a  mosaic  table,  on 
which  lay  a  few  new  works,  all  beautifully  bound,  with 
many  other  costly  nothings.  Here  and  there,  and  every- 
where, are  scattered  letters  in  pink,  blue,  white,  and  even 
yellow  embossed  envelops,  bearing  on  their  backs  the 
address  of  the  elegant  proprietor  of  this  bower  of  en- 
chantment. 

The  lady  is  reclining  on  the  sofa,  in  the  most  approved 
attitude,  it  having  been  wheeled  to  the  fire.  She  has 
exchanged  her  magnificent  vestments  of  gauze,  satin, 
lace,  gold,  and  diamonds,  for  a  more  comfortable,  but  not 
less  costly  robe-de-chambre  of  delicate  pink  silk  velvet. 
In  removing  the  tiara  of  diamonds  (worthy  to  press  the 
brow  of  a  princess)  her  hair  has  become  unfettered,  and 
now  falls  in  rich  masses  over  her  neck  and  shoulders. 
She  is  pale,  but  still  looking  very  regal ;  and  to-night 
pretty.  There  is  a  softened  expression,  a  languor,  which 
is  peculiarly  becoming  to  some  women.  Her  eyes  are 
closed. 

Murray  stands  looking  at  her,  and  for  the  first  time 
there  is  a  feeling  stirring  within  his  bosom  akin  to  pas- 


128 


THE     N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


sion  for  that  splendid  creature,  who  is  so  certainly  his 
own  whenever  he  chooses  to  appropriate  her.  u  While 
the  lover  is  gazing  at  the  lovely  picture,  surprised  at  his 
own  emotions,  he  notes  two  big  tears  force  their  way 
from  under  the  closed  lids,  and  roll  down  her  cheeks." 

"Ann,  has  Conrad  come  yet?  Oh  !  How  tardy  he  is?  I 
would  have  flown  to  him,  did  he  permit  me." 

"  I  am  here,  Gertrude,"  said  Murray,  approaching 
her.  She  starts  up  with  an  exclamation  of  irrepressi- 
ble joy. 

"  Oh  !  I  have  wTaited  so  long,  and  have  wished  so  much 
for  this  hour!"  Leaning  on  her  elbow,  she  weeps  in 
silence.  The  large  oriental  sleeve  has  fallen  back  and 
reveals  the  bare  arm  to  the  shoulder.  That  arm  is  beau- 
tiful—  it  might  have  furnished  the  model  for  the  Greek 
slave. 

He  sits  down  by  her,  takes  her  hand,  and  presses  it 
gently,  then  carries  it  to  his  lips.  The  conversation  now 
ensues,  which  is  related  in  part  (with  many  variations) 
by  the  lady's  maid,  to  Miss  Moggy  Ann  Cams  —  with  due 
allowance  for  the  inventive  genius  of  all  negro  slaves. 
This  time  there  are  gross  discrepancies,  and  an  astonish- 
ing mistake  of  time  and  place. 

"  Conrad !  you  have  ceased  to  love  me.  How  have  I 
offended  you  ?  Why  do  you  thus  evermore  neglect  and 
avoid  me  ?  " 

"  Cease  all  upbraidings,  Gertrude.  In  sooth,  I'm  in  no 
mood  to  listen." 

"  Oh,  God  !  cold  as  ever  !  Will  nothing  move  that  flinty 
heart?  Would  I  were  dead  ?  If  I  have  outlived  your  love, 
Murray,  I  do  not  prize  existence,  and  will  throw  it  from 
me."    She  weeps  again,  and  wringing  her  hands,  adds  : 

"Tell  me  at  once — let  me  know — whether  I  am  thus 
wretched?"  She  takes  his  hand  again,  which  in  her 
violent  excitement  she  had  thrown  from  her,  and  looks 
pleadingly  into  his  face. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


129 


Col.  Murray  withdraws  it,  rises  to  his  feet,  and  folds  his 
arms,  looking  proudly  down  on  her. 

"  Gertrude,  have  I  ever  told  you  I  loved  you?  Have  I 
for  one  moment  deceived  you  in  this?  Have  I  not  rather 
always  said,  that  my  heart  was  withered,  shriveled  like  a 
dried  leaf  just  ready  to  fall?  Blame  me  not — I  have  no 
spirit,  no  feelings  to  meet  your  ardent  nature.  I  am 
pained  to  think  that  yours  are  squandered  on  a  soulless 
man." 

She  takes  his  hand  again,  and  exclaims  passionately — 
"  I  care  not !  I  do  not  love  you  less  for  this,"  pressing 
his  fingers  to  her  lips. 

"  Come,  come,  Gertrude,  do  not  waste  such  fine  senti- 
mentality upon  me.  Eefrain,  I  beseech  you.  Do  you  not 
see  that  I  am  as  impassive  as  marble ;  cold  and  incensate, 
blind  to  all  such  things,  as  the  poor  mole  that  burrows 
beneath  the  earth?" 

The  lady  covers  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobs  out — 
"  Then  will  you  leave  me  to  die  ?    Will  you  cast  me  off 
and  desert  me  again  ?  " 

u  Mo,  Gertrude,  I  intend  to  comply  with  that  marriage 
contract.  As  I  am  pledged  so  will  I  fulfill.  I  have  this 
day  renewed  this  promise  to  my  mother,  whose  heart 
seems  to  be  set  on  the  alliance.  I  can  not  tell  wherefore, 
but  she  seems  to  desire,  with  a  feverish  impatience,  to 
witness  our  happiness :  that  is,  your  happiness  and  my 
prosperity." 

"Miss  Lindsay"  (said  he,  now  seating  himself  by  her), 
"I  could  never  understand  why  you  should  descend  from 
your  lofty  pedestal,  where  so  many  adorers  offer  daily  that 
incense  which  is  so  acceptable  to  all  pretty  women,  and 
thus  condescend  to  accept  such  a  poor  shattered  man  as  I 
am.  In  spirit,  person,  and  fortune,  I  am  broken.  Yet 
would  you  bestow  yours,  all  unimpaired,  on  this  wreck. 
How  is  this?  Why  are  our  parents  so  anxious  to  have  us 
united  ?    Why  would  your  proud  'father,  who  knows  my 


130 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


dark  history,  give  his  queenlike  daughter,  with  all  her 
charms,  beside  countless  thousands  of  that  dross  which  is 
so  worshiped  in  the  world,  to  a  man  who  is  bankrupt  in 
all  these,  and  whose  heart  even,  has  stopped  payment  for 
such  a  length  of  time?" 

"  Oh  !  I  do  not  know !  I  can  not  say  anything  about 
it.  I  only  know,  that  I  love  you  in  spite  of  every  dis- 
couragement, that  my  heart  is  no  longer  in  my  own 
keeping,  and  that  I  am  yours  —  soul,  body,  and  fortune. 
Then,  if  I  can  not  be  your  wife  I'll  be  your  slave  —  your 
anything  —  so  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  remain  near  you, 
to  see  you,  to  wait  on  you,  and  sometimes  to  embrace  you." 

The  calm,  cold  man  was  conquered.  He  sat  down  on  a 
low  seat  at  the  feet  of  this  reckless  woman,  took  her  hand, 
pressed  it  with  more  fervency  than  he  had  ever  done  before ; 
carried  to  his  lips  those  beautiful  taper  fingers ;  talked 
to  her  in  a  low,  soothing  voice  ;  then  rising,  said,  "  Well, 
Gertrude,  you  shall  have  your  own  way  about  it.  Appoint 
the  day,  and  let  it  be  an  early  one :  but  have  no  undue 
parade.  My  mother's  illness  will  be  a  sufficient  reason  to 
your  friends  for  not  making  a  fete.  Let  it  take  place,  and 
make  yourself,  my  mother,  and  your  father  happy.  As 
to  myself  I  am  a  wretch,  and  do  not  deserve  the  tenth 
part  of  this  devotion." 

He  has  said  adieu ;  has  once  more  kissed  a  good  night 
on  those  rosy  tips,  and  departs :  but  turns  to  gaze  again 
at  his  voluptuous-looking  bride.  Ah  !  why  did  he  turn 
back  ?  It  never  was  well  to  do  so  ;  "  better  to  have  been 
changed  to  a  pillar  of  salt "  at  once,  than  to  meet  that 
array  of  charms  so  seductive.  Poor  man  !  thy  future  is 
full  of  dark  spots !  But  he  did  look  back,  and  human 
nature  is  human  nature.  The  lady  was  smiling  placidly  — 
happiness  had  made  her  face  radiant.  Now  her  counte- 
nance is  glowing  and  beautiful,  beaming  with  love  for  him. 
He  knows  this,  he  feels  it.  He  returns,  falls  on  one  knee 
before  her,  embraces  her  wildly,  kisses  her  hands,  her 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  131 

forehead,  her  cheeks,  her  lips,  many  times,  then  rushes 
from  the  room. 

As  he  passes  from  the  presence  of  the  Circe,  he  finds 
the  door  ajar,  and  in  the  distance,  perceives  Ann  gliding 
away.  But  what  cares  he  now  ?  For  the  first  time,  for 
many  years,  he  is  under  the  domination  of  passion.  He 
is  wild,  and  the  hot  blood  is  coursing  through  his  veins ; 
he  believes  his  present  delirium  is  a  presage  of  love,  the 
harbinger  of  happiness.  Beware,  young  man !  There 
are  two  kinds  of  the  same  thing :  the  pure  and  the  dross, 
the  sentiment  of  love  and  the  passion.  Try  them  both 
in  the  crucible  of  reason  ;  test  them  in  the  alembic  of 
time. 

To-morrow  morning  when  you  shall  awake  from  your 
slumbers  —  maybe  dreams  of  Elysium  —  compare  your 
present,  forced,  exuberant  emotions  with  the  fervent, 
steadfast,  self-immolating  love  which  you  have  felt  even 
from  childhood,  for  the  ill-fated  Marianna,  your  soul's 
idol. 

When  Col.  Murray  left  the  Siren,  he  hurried  on,  as  he 
thought,  homeward  ;  still  under  the  influence  of  passion, 
he  walked  on  heedless  of  all  things,  and  only  roused,  up 
to  find  that  he  was  traveling  at  that  tremendous  pace  in 
the  opposite  direction.  He  turns,  and  in  retracing  his 
steps,  finds  himself  before  that  humble  abode  of  the  hap- 
less Myra. 

"Ha!  I  meant  not  this  (he  closes  his  eyes).  I  must 
not  do  anything  unworthy  of  Charles  Murray.  Let  her  be 
what  she  may  now,  when  she  becomes  my  wife,  she  shall 
then  be  exalted.  All  other  idols  must  be  shivered,  when 
I  place  her  by  my  hearthstone,  where  no  traitor,  false  hus- 
band, or  craven  lover  ever  dwelt.  I  will  be  true.  Oh,  yes, 
I  will  at  least  be  honest ;  every  man  has  it  in  his  power  to 
be  that :  but  I  will  also  do  my  utmost  to  requite  her 
mighty  love.    My  poor  Gertrude  !  "   He  enters  his  house. 

When  Miss  Lindsay  found  herself  alone,  she  threw  off 


132 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


that  gentle  languor,  which  was  so  pleasing  to  her  lover, 
but  which  had  been  sustained  with  so  much  trouble  and 
fatigue  to  herself.  She  jumps  up  from  her  recumbent 
attitude,  throws  her  beautiful  arms  aloft,  and  cries,  in  an 
ecstacy  of  triumphant  delight, 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  happy  —  I  have  had  him  at  my  feet  — 
joy  !  joy  !  joy  !  I  have  played  my  part,  and  'heaven  is 
won!"' 

Ann,  coming  into  the  room,  unintentionally  upsets  a 
chair. 

"  Ha  !  are  you  there,  Ann  ?  How  long  have  you  been 
in  the  room?  " 

"I  jest  come,  Miss  Guttrude — jest  this  minit." 

"  Ann,  you  are  a  liar  by  nature ;  but  tell  me  a  lie  now, 
at  the  peril  of  your  black  hide,  and  I'll  have  it  peeled 
off.  How  long  have  you  been  a  witness  to  what  was 
passing  in  this  room?"  Then  that  gentle,  melting,  lov- 
ing lady  jerks  up  a  chair  with  Amazonian  strength,  and 
advances  toward  the  girl  with  the  intent  to  strike  her 
down.    The  negro  dodges  and  runs  out  of  the  room. 

"  Now  I've  done  for  myself  again.  Fool !  fool !  fool ! 
that  I  am  evermore.  If  she  should  leave  me,  and  tell 
this  thing  where  Murray  should  hear  it !  And  this  she'll 
be  certain  to  do,  for  she  is  the  devil  incarnate.  I  must 
propitiate  her  —  my  own  slave.  I  who,  this  night,  have 
had  a  sovereign  at  my  feet,  must  now  condescend  to  coax 
my  own  negro !  Oh,  what  a  world !  What  a  world 
this  is !  " 

She  goes  to  the  door  and  calls  the  maid,  who  replies  — 
"Yes,  m-a'a-m,  I'm  coming."  No  sound  was  ever  so  wel- 
come—  the  music  of  the  spheres  could  not  have  been 
hailed  or  listened  to  with  more  delight. 

"  Ann,  come  here  to  your  Miss  Girty.  Why  did  you 
go  out,  girl  ?" 

"  Because,  Miss  Guttrude,  I  thought  you  was  gwine  to 
kill  me  wid  dat  cheer." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


133 


"  Ann,  you  are  a  fool !  Did  I  ever  kill  you  with  a 
chair?" 

The  girl  takes  up  her  apron,  and  begins  to  go  through 
the  motion  of  crimping  the  hem  between  her  finger  and 
thumb,  and  looking  askance  at  the  lady,  answers  with  a 
grin,  "  Y-e-s,  m-a'a-m." 

"  Well !  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it  this  time,  any  how.  Now 
tell  me  what  you  heard  and  saw,  while  you  were  listening 
there." 

"  I  aint  not  been  listening,  Miss  Gutty.  Now  you  may 
ask  Eobert  ef  I  wasn't  a  gallivanting  wid  him." 

"  "With  Eobert?  What  business  have  you  with  Eobert, 
girl?" 

"  Oh,  me  !  "  cries  Ann  ;  now  following  up  the  process  of 
crimping  the  other  side  of  her  apron,  and  looking  out  at 
the  corners  of  her  eyes,  "  We's,  we's  sweethearts,  mam." 

u  Oh,  is  that  it?  "  A  sudden  thought  strikes  this  intri- 
guante. "  Do  you  love  him,  Ann  ;  and  does  he  love  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mam,  we  does  dat  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  both  belong  to  me,  child  ?  " 
"  Yes,  mam,  I  knows  I  does,  but  I  thought  Eobert  b'long 
to  master." 

u  No,  he  and  you  are  both  my  slaves,  and  if  you  will  be 
a  faithful,  good  girl,  and  quit  lying,  I'll  let  you  get  mar- 
ried, and  I'll  give  you  a  nice  wedding  the  same  night  that 
we  are  married." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Gutty,"  said  the  negro  girl,  making 
a  low  curtesy :  but  is  you  gwine  to  git  married,  sure- 
'nough,  mam  ?  Oh,  I'm  so  glad.  And  will  you  let  Eobert 
and  me  stand  up  before  de  same  Hymenial  halter  ?  " 

"  If  you  behave  yourself,  and  please  me.  Now  tell  me 
what  you  heard  and  saw  from  that  door." 

"  Lawsy  me  I  you  got  back  to  dat  agin,  mam.  Now, 
'fore  God  !  Miss  Gutty,  you's  hard  on  dis  poor  nigger.  I 
tell  you,  mam,  I  had  jest  got  in  de  room,  and  I  hear  you 
say,  4  Oh  !  I  done  play  de  part ;  joy !  joy  !  and  heaven  is 


134 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


won.'  So  I  thought,  being  as  how  you  was  sick  to-night, 
prehaps  you  was  gwine  to  die.  Then  I  so  'stonished,  and 
so  glad — no,  I  mean  so  sorry — dat  I  jest  'advertently  set 
up  dat  cheer  down  on  de  floor.  And  now  dis  is  de  truph, 
de  whole  truph,  and  nothin'  but  de  truph ;  so  help  me 
everybody.  Amen." 

"  What  made  you  think  about  dying,  just  then,  Ann  ?  " 

"  Oh  nothing,  mam  ;  only  de  Mefodist  ministerial  tells 
us  dat  it's  only  through  de  shadow  and  valley  of  death  dat 
we  can  arrive  at  the  gates ;  so  I  s'pose  you  was  gwine  dat 
way  of  course.  But  maybe  Miss  Gutty  you  got  some  new 
way  to  enter  dat  kingdom-come  ?    Is  you,  mam  ?  " 

The  lady  laughed,  and  retired  to  her  room,  closing  the 
door  after  her.  Ann  busied  herself  for  a  short  time  in 
adjusting  the  room,  muttering  all  the  time  to  herself, 
with  an  occasional  little  giggle,  "  Ha,  ha,  he,  he,  he ! 
May  be  she  think  'she  gwine  git  to  heaven  when  she  marry 
wid  dat  proud  colonel !  Aye  !  but  wont  she  miss  de  right 
road  ?  Phew !  I  wouldn't  not  be  in  h-e-r  p-l-a-c-e .  I 
wouldn't  —  that's  all.  Phew!  but  wont  he  make  her 
walk  de  chalk  line?    Phew  !  he,  he,  he  !  " 

When  she  has  restored  all  things  to  their  original  order, 
she  goes  in  to  disrobe  her  imperial  mistress.  Ann  was 
proud  of  her  lady,  although  she  had  not  much  love  for 
her.  Those  very  qualities  which  were  so  distasteful  to 
Murray,  and  all  other  good  persons,  only  enhanced  her 
value  in  the  eyes  of  the  slave.  She  found  Miss  Lindsay 
sitting  there,  waiting  to  be  undressed — which  she  had 
never  done  for  herself  in  the  whole  course  of  her  life. 
We  leave  them  together.  Oh  what  a  brace  !  It  is  Satan 
pitted  against  Satan. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


135 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

THE    JEW  PEDDLER. 

"  The  miser  lives  alone,  abhorred  by  all, 
Like  a  disease ;  yet  can  not  so  be  'scaped, 
But  canker-like  eats  through  the  poor  men's  hearts 
That  live  about  him." 

"  Of  age's  avarice  I  could  never  see 
What  color,  ground,  or  reason  there  should  be." 

There  is  a  large,  tall,  quaint-looking  brick  house  stand- 
ing in  a  distant  part  of  the  city  from  the  places  where  we 
have  been.  This  tenement  shelters,  and  conceals  in  its 
unnumbered  apartments,  nooks,  and  crannies,  a  sufficient 
number  of  human  beings  to  form  a  colony.  A  small, 
wretched,  dirty,  doleful-looking  room,  immediately  under 
the  roof  is  tenanted  by  the  owner  of  the  whole  house  — 
nay,  whole  square.  Its  walls  are  rude  and  unplastered ; 
the  few  panes  of  glass  in  the  one  little  window  which  are 
not  broken,  are  almost  entirely  darkened  by  rime  and  cob- 
webs, and  the  holes  are  stopped  with  rags,  brown  paper 
and  old  hats.  The  winter  winds  whistle  through  the 
crevices  of  door,  window,  ceiling  and  floor.  The  furni- 
ture consists  of  two  chairs  without  backs,  a  little  table, 
and  a  very  ricketty,  dilapidated  cot,  or  couch.  A  heap  of 
rubbish  is  piled  up  in  one  corner  :  old  rusty,  broken 
fenders,  parts  of  bedsteads,  chairs,  candlesticks,  pitchers, 
plates,  a  mass  of  filthy -looking  coverlets,  pieces  of  carpets, 
also  some  old  greasy  wearing  apparel.  It  is  impossible 
to  conceive  of  the  gloom  and  squalor  of  this  place,  and 
the  imagination  could  scarce  paint  such  a  scene. 


136 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


A  few  coals  are  blazing  in  a  very  small  grate,  on  one 
side  of  which  is  a  large  hair-trunk,  having  as  fastenings 
three  bands  of  iron,  and  a  huge  padlock.  This  trunk  is 
almost  concealed  by  an  old  cloak.  On  it  is  seated  the 
presiding  genius  of  the  place  —  a  little,  old,  shrunken, 
shriveled,  mummy-looking  man.  His  eyes  are  small,  and 
peer  out  from  under  his  gray,  shaggy  brows  so  fiercely, 
that  on  meeting  them  you  experience  the  same  involun- 
tary shudder  which  passes  through  the  frame  when 
encountering  the  eye  of  a  snake,  or  any  other  venomous 
beast.  Ever  and  anon  he  turns  those  eyes  to  the  door, 
and  then  again  to  the  fire,  and  spreads  out  his  lean,  lank, 
claw-like  fingers  over  the  little  blaze :  then  again  turns 
to  the  door,  and  sighs,  and  mutters  to  himself. 

"  Why  don't  she  come?  I'm  starving!  Oh!  what  is 
de  matter  mit  de  gal  ?  Oh  !  I  wants  to  see  her,  mine  own 
comely  shild  !  "  Again  he  sends  a  piercing  glance  to  the 
door.  "  Oh,  oh,  oh  !  something  has  happened  to  mine 
shild  !  Oh !  Fadder  Abraham !  them  Christian  dog  has 
taken  mine  comely  shild  captive."  He  plucks  off  his  cap, 
and,  after  the  primitive  manner  of  his  people,  sprinkles 
ashes  on  his  head  and  weeps. 

The  door  opens  :  a  girl  enters,  muffled  up  to  the  eyes  in 
a  cloak  and  hood,  with  a  green  veil  thrown  over  her  head. 
Coming  up  to  that  unsightly  old  man,  she  throws  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  kisses  him. 

u  Oh  !  now  thank  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  all 
the  oder  fadders  !    But  where  is  mine  monish  ?  "Where 


"  Father,  it  is  very  cold  to-day.    It  is  almost  " 

"  Where  is  mine  monish,  I  say  ?  —  Tell  me  dat. 
Where  " 

u  Father,  I  did  my  best,  but  I  could  not  succeed  this 
time." 

"  Why,  den,  shild,  couldst  thou  not  collect  mine  dues?" 
"  They  are  all  sick  ;  sick  almost  unto  death,  father." 


THE    NIGHT     W A  T  C  H  . 


137 


u  Didst  thou  ask  dem,  for  what  is  mine  own?  Didst — " 
u  Come,  father,  kiss  thy  poor  little  Leah.  She  has  done 
all  she  could  with  honor."  He  leans  forward,  and  that 
young,  fresh, .  sweet  child  of  nature  entwines  her  arms 
around  the  neck  of  that  old,  repulsive  piece  of  parch- 
ment, and  returns  the  kiss  with  affection.  He  is  the  first 
to  disengage  himself,  saying,  "  Now,  shild,  you  shall  tell 
thy  fadder  all  about  it.    When  shall  I  get  mine  monish  ?  " 

"  Father,  I  have  brought  thee  something  nice  for  thy 
dinner."  She  opens  a  napkin  and  shows  him  a  piece  of 
meat  and  a  few  sausages.  He  starts  back  with  apparent 
dismay. 

u  Out  upon  thee  for  a  bad  shild  !  to  fetch  thy  poor  old 
fadder  swine  to  eat !  Fadder  Abraham !  dem  Nazarene 
has  turned  the  shild's  head.  By  all  the  patriarchs  !  I'll, 
I'M  " 

u  Oh  !  hush,  father  ;  threaten  me  not.  It  is  worse  than 
idle  to  do  so.  But,  poor  father,  thou  art  greatly  mista- 
ken ;  it  is  beef,  good  beef,  made  up  by  my  order  for  thee." 
Poor  old  man  !  thou  wouldst  sooner  put  to  death  a  Christ- 
ian than  eat  a  piece  of  their  pork." 

f<  Then,  shild,  come  fry  me  a  little  bit  of  it.  Thy  father 
is  almost  famished.  Stop,  stop  !  where  didst  thou  get  the 
monish  to  buy  dem  nice  meat,  Leah  ?  Now  may  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  Jacob,  and  all  de  oders  assist  me  !  Leah,  if 
thou  hast  let  dem  Christian  dogs  look  upon  thy  face,  and 
hast  pleased  dem,  so  dat  they  give  thee  dat  filthy  lucre, 
and  hast  tempted  dem  to  find  the  way  to  thy  fadder's 
hiding  place,  I'll,  I'll  lock  thee  up  in  dis  trunk,"  beating 
the  ends  of  it  with  his  bony  fingers. 

The  girl  did  not  reply,  but  proceeded  to  remove  the 
cloak  and  hood.  When  she  had  done  so,  she  turned  to 
her  father,  who  grinned  his  admiration. 

u  Yes,  I  see  ;  just  like  thy  mother ;  comely,  as  was  Ea- 
ch el  of  old."    The  old  man  spoke  most  truly.    The  girl 
was  as  beautiful  as  the  poet's  dream. 
12 


138 


THE    NX  G H  T     W  ATCH. 


Now  that  divine  creature  hunts  about  among  the  rub- 
bish until  she  finds  a  skillet  in  which  she  pours  a  little 
oil,  then  placing  the  fragments  of  meat  and  a  couple  of 
links  of  sausage  in  it,  sets  it  on  the  fire,  where  it  begins 
to  fry.  Bringing  a  large  onion,  she  proceeds  to  slice  it 
very  nicely,  and  putting  the  pieces  also  into  the  skillet,  sits 
and  watches  the  process  of  browning,  turning  every  piece 
carefully.  When  all  is  nicely  cooked,  she  dishes  it  up  in 
a  tin  plate,  places  it  on  the  little  table,  and  moves  it  up 
to  her  father's  side,  having  also  set  down  a  loaf  of  bread, 
some  salt  in  a  broken  teacup,  and  an  old,  rusty,  tin  pepper- 
box. This  finished,  she  goes  again  to  the  mass  of  rub- 
bish, and  pulls  out  a  stone  jug,  from  which  she  fills  a  tin 
cup  with  some  sort  of  liquor  —  hands  it  to  the  old  man, 
then  replaces  the  bottle,  covering  it  up  as  before. 

The  old  creature  eats  voraciously,  while  his  beautiful 
daughter  stands  by,  napkin  in  hand,  and  ministers  to  him. 

A  little  bell  tinkles.  He  starts  as  if  he  had  been  caught 
in  the  commission  of  crime. 

"  Here,  shild,  put  away  dese  tings  ;  thy  fadder  is  very 
poor,  thou  knowest.  He  can  not  afford  to  feed  on  flesh 
and  drink  Hock.  Don't  mine  shild  understand  her  own 
fadder?  "  In  a  moment,  as  if  by  magic,  every  dainty  dis- 
appeared, leaving  only  the  loaf  of  bread  and  pitcher  of 
water. 

"  Come  in,"  says  a  voice  so  feeble  and  quavering  that 
you  would  have  supposed  it  issued  from  the  lips  of  one 
just  "  going  off."  "  Come  in,"  and  as  Tivvy  entered, 
Leah  disappeared  most  mysteriously.  She  was  in  the  act 
of  hanging  up  an  old  coat,  when,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  she  seemed  to  amalgamate  with  the  cloth  ;  for  when 
the  negro  came  to  the  fire,  she  found  the  old  man  alone, 
sitting  as  at  first,  on  the  trunk. 

"  How  do  you  do,  old  Fire  and  Faggot  ?  "  says  Tivvy. 

"  Good  morning,  lady.  How  is  thyself?  "  whined  out 
a  little,  plaintive  voice. 


THE    NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


139 


"  Oh  !  I  don't  know  ;  I  suppose  bad  enough,  Faggot. 
But  when  I  place  my  sitiwation  along  side  o'  this,  I  reckon 
it's  very  good,  and  easy,  and  comfortable  like." 

u  Yes,  lady ;  nobody  is  so  bad  off  as  old  Mordecai  Fag- 
got, the  Jew  peddler.  I  is  very  poor  ;  very  poor  is  poor 
old  Faggot." 

"  Well,  I've  come  for  you,  Mordecai,  rich  or  poor,  I've 
come  for  you,  so  make  ready." 

"  Ah  !  mine  Got !  who  wants  poor  old  Faggot  ?  I  tell 
thee,  ma'am,  I  is  not  able  to  go.    Oh  !  oh  !  I  is  not  able." 

"You'll  have  to  go  ;  you  dare  not  disobey." 

"  Who  wants  me,  den  ?  " 

"  Faggot,  your  mistress  and  mine,  wants  you." 

"  Who  ?  who  is  dat  ?    Who  does  want  me  ?  " 

"  Why  she  wants  you.  Do  you  know  now?  Anyhow 
you've  got  to  go,  that's  flat,  even  if  you  can't  walk." 

u  Fadder  Abraham!  Well,  I  must  try.  I  know  it  is 
death  by  de  law  to  desobey  her."  He  rises  with  great 
difficulty,  and  totters  to  an  old  cloak  on  the  wall,  and  tries 
to  disengage  it  from  the  peg,  but  fails.  "  Fadder  Jacob,  I 
is  so  mighty  weak  I  can't  do  nothin'  at  all."  Tivvy  gives 
him  the  cloak,  turning  up  her  nose  at  the  noisome  con- 
dition of  it. 

"Now,  thou  must  go  on,  my  lady,  and  tell  her  I  is 
coming." 

"  Oh  !  but  she  told  me  not  to  leave  you,  Faggot." 

"  Bun  on,  run  on  ;  goot  gal,  I  is  comin'." 

"Now,  old  Mordecai  Faggot — 'the  Jew  peddler,'  you 
call  yourself,  don't  you  ?  do  you  want  your  soul  left  in 
the  inside  o'  that  old  dried  up  hull  of  a  body  o'  yourn  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  does." 

"  Then  don't  you  disappoint  her.  And  if  you  love  any- 
thing in  this  world  (beside  that  old  hair-trunk,  what  sets 
there  full  o'  money),  and  wants  it  saved,  then  don't  you 
come  into  that  front  door." 

"  Oh !  oh !  "  said  he,  dropping  down  again  on  the 


140 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


trunk,  and  trying  covertly  to  conceal  it  with  his  cloak, 
"  I  is  got  no  monish ;  nobody  is  so  poor  as  Mordecai  Fag- 
got, the  Jew.  I  is  Traid  somethin'  wrill  happen  to  me. 
Oh!  oh!  " 

"  You  are  afraid  something  will  happen  to  the  gold  in 
that  trunk  ;  that's  about  it.  That  iron-hound  trunk  there," 
said  Tivvy,  peeping  round  mischievously.  "  Great  pad- 
lock, too." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  I  is  betrayed !  I  is  betrayed  !  " 

"Old  Faggot,  you  are  a  fool!  JSTow,  just  as  soon  as  it 
gits  little  bit  darker,  you  come  right  along.  I'm  not 
going  to  walk  the  streets  with  you  —  but  you  had  better 
make  haste." 

Tivvy  left,  closing  the  door.  In  an  instant  it  was 
double  locked.  And  now,  that  feeble,  miserable,  decrepid 
old  wretch  disappears,  and  in  his  stead  there  stands  a 
smart,  active,  bustling  little  man,  about  half  the  age  of 
the  poor  old  Faggot,  who  sat  there  a  moment  ago.  The 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  tug  at  the  trunk.  Finding  it 
secure,  he  brought  a  bundle  of  rags  and  covered  it  over. 
He  walks  briskly  about  the  room,  arranging  many  things 
until  it  is  quite  dark.  Then  he  again  puts  on  his  old 
cloak  and  cap,  and  the  same  aged,  white-haired  man  tot- 
ters from  the  house.  Having  made  fast  the  door  like  the 
trunk  with  a  strong  padlock,  he  passes  feebly  and  cring- 
ingly,  on  his  way  to  that  lordly  mansion. 

On  his  route  he  receives  ma  ay  a  hiss  and  malediction. 
If  he,  by  accident,  jostles  even  a  negro,  the  words  he  is 
forced  to  hear  are,  "  Cussed  Jew,  don't  tetch  me  !  Nigger 
as  I  is.  I  wouldn't  be  you."  And  as  he  is  rudely  thrust 
off,  he  comes  in  contact  with  some  blustering,  swaggering 
member  of  the  mushroom  aristocracy,  who  as  fiercely 
throws  him  back,  exclaiming,  with  assumed  wrath, 
" Damned  usurer!  stand  off!"  Then  again,  that  snaky 
sound  issues  from  groups  of  boys. 

This  was  excoriation  to  the  feelings  of  that  abject  look- 


THE    NT  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  II . 


141 


ing  man.  Yet  he  plods  on  humbly,  without  once  raising 
his  head.  Those  little  fiery  eyes  gleam  from  under  his 
penthouse  brows,  with  a  lurid  and  ominous  fire ;  but  he 
makes  no  resistance,  and  seems  not  to  heed.  Yet  all 
these  wrongs  are  written  on  his  heart  with  a  red-hot  steel 
pen,  which  can  only  be  washed  out  by  the  blood  and  tears 
of  his  enemies.  His  soul  burns  to  wreak  his  vengeance 
on  all  Christians  —  the  foes  of  his  race. 

"  Poor  old  Jew,  I  am  sorry  for  thee  !  Thou  wert  not 
so  bad  at  first;  but  now  thy  evil  passions  are  inflamed, 
and  thou  art  ready  to  commit  crimes,  and  waiting  only 
for  a  day  of  power  to  sweep  them  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  That  creeping,  cringing,  crawling  thing  would 
have,  with  fire  and  sword,  slain  every  follower  of  Christ. 
All  his  secret  stores  —  his  hoarded  gold  —  were  set  apart, 
and  consecrated  in  his  mind  to  this  great  and  righteous 
work  of  retributive  justice.  Therefore  to  rob,  to  distress, 
to  torture  (but  not  to  kill)  secretly  all  who  came  in  his 
way  was,  in  his  eyes,  a  virtue,  and  became  the  fixed  pur- 
pose of  his  life.  It  was  done  remorselessly,  for  conscience 
sake ;  religiously  believing  it  to  be  a  sacred  duty  incum- 
bent on  him  to  avenge  his  people.  Superadded  to  this, 
was  avarice,  in  its  most  repulsive  form  —  its  most  ghastly 
shape.  And  this  was  the  counselor  and  coadjutor  of  the 
aristocratic  Mrs.  Murray. 

When  Faggot  arrived  at  the  alley  which  communicated 
with  the  offices  of  the  establishment,  he  exclaims  in  a 
low  and  angry  growl,  "  Mine  Got !  it  is  as  dark  as  de  devil 
here." 

"  Hist !  hist !  "  said  Tivvy,  "  follow  me." 

She  then  conducted  him  up  a  back  stairway,  then 
through  a  narrow,  dark  corridor  to  her  door.  She  opens 
it  softly,  pushes  him  in,  shuts  it,  and  goes  off  to  gossip 
and  make  love  to  James,  Col.  Murray's  valet. 

The  old  lady  is  quite  recovered,  and  is  again  arrayed  in 
all  her  youthful  charms.    The  Jew,  thus  suddenly  forced 


142  THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 

into  the  presence  of  this  woman,  who  had  for  forty  years 
exercised  such  unbounded  influence  over  him,  trembled 
from  head  to  foot.  He  cowered  beneath  those  keen,  cold 
eyes.  No  salutation  is  passed  between  them.  Such  is  not 
the  custom  with  the  lady  toward  her  tool.  He  stands 
there  in  her  presence  with  those  white  locks  uncovered. 

"  Well,  Jew,  you  have  come  ?  'Tis  well,"  said  the  lady, 
looking  disdainfully  at  him. 

"  Yes,  mine  lady,  I  is  here."  Another  painful  pause. 
He  adds,  "Mine  lady  sent  for  her  servant.  What  does 
she  want  mit  him  '?  " 

"  I  sent  for  you,  Faggot,  because  I  have  work  fit  for 
your  hands  only.  Now,  tell  me,  Mordecai,  what  usury 
you  will  extort  for  doing  a  service  which  will  afford  you 
as  much  pleasure  as  me  profit  ?  " 

u  Oh  1  I  does  not  know,  mine  lady ;  dat  will  depend  on 
the  nature  of  the  servish.  If  thou  wilt  tell  thy  servant, 
then  he  can  judge." 

"  In  the  first  place,  Mordecai,  my  son  has  fallen  into 
the  strangest  mood.  He  neither  talks,  laughs,  eats,  nor 
sleeps." 

"  Oh  !  mine  God  !  den  what  does  he  do  ?  Jest  nothing 
at  all.  Well,  now  dat  is  bad  ;  he  can't  live  long  at  dem 
rate." 

"  Wretch  !  How  dare  you  interrupt  me  ?  Keep  your 
wizen  jaws  closed ;  else,  by  heaven,  I'll  have  them  slit 
from  ear  to  ear." 

"  I  begs  thy  pardon,"  says  the  poor  old  creature,  drop- 
ping his  head  on  his  breast.  "  Go  on,  my  lady,  if  it  please 
thee." 

"  Well,  every  evening  he  leaves  home  about  nine  o'clock, 
is  gone  two  hours,  then  comes  back  to  pace  the  room  the 
whole  night;  I  wish  to  know  where  he  goes,  and  how  he 
passes  that  interval." 

"  Oh  !  dat  is  easy  enough  done ;  I  knows  where  he  goes 
now." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  143 

Then  she  spoke  some  words  in  a  low  whisper.  The 
Jew  starts,  and  raises  his  little  red  hot  eyes  to  her  face. 
All  this  time  she  has  kept  the  feeble  old  man  standing. 
Now  she  says  in  a  condescending  tone : 

"  Mordecai,  sit  down  ;  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  you 
about  our  business." 

He  sits  down,  meekly  folding  his  arms,  and  casting  his 
eyes  to  the  floor. 

"  Faggot,  didn't  you  swear  to  me  solemnly  that  Mari- 
anna  Glencoe  was  dead  ?  And  didn't  I  make  you  a  title  to 
the  very  house  which  shelters  you  now,  for  the  commis- 
sion of  that  one  deed,  which  was  only  the  keenest  enjoy- 
ment to  such  a  blood-sucker  as  you  are?  " 

"Yes,  mine  lady,  you  did,"  said  he,  grinning,  thereby 
disclosing  very  white,  sharp  teeth. 

"  Is  she  dead,  or  not?"  Once  for  all  I  ask  you,  and  I 
want  the  truth." 

The  Jew  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  said  nerv- 
ously, "  Mine  Got!    The  goot  lady  raves." 

"  Speak  out,  base  Israelite ;  else  shall  you  not  live  to 
see  your  ill-gotten  hoards  again." 

"Well,  now,  did  not  mine  lady  see  for  herself,  and  not 
for  anoder,  dat  she  was  dead  ?  Didn't  she  see  de  coffin 
let  down  into  de  ground  her  own  self,  mit  her  own  keen 
eyes?" 

"  I  thought  so,  miscreant;  but  something  has  occurred, 
some  very  strange  things  have  turned  up  to  awaken  sus- 
picion, and  —  . — " 

*  Oh  !  mine  Got !  Den  I'll  hide  ;  I'll  run  away.  Oh  ! 
Oh!  " 

"  No,  sir,  you  shall  not.    You  stand  your  ground  and 
do  my  bidding  ;  do  you  hear  me,  sir?" 
"  Yes,  mine  lady,  I  does." 

"  Now,  tell  me,  Faggot,  who  that  beautiful  stranger  is, 
occupying  that  old  hovel  way  down  Market  street?  " 
Then  he  required  her  to  describe  the  place  very  mi- 


144  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

nutely,  all  the  time  looking  innocent  and  ignorant.  But 
if  the  lady  had  been  using  those  handsome  eye-glasses, 
she  would  have  seen  that  his  ghastly  face  suddenly  became 
livid. 

"  Jew,  I  suspect  you  acted  the  traitor  in  that  matter 
toward  me,  but  it  can't  be  helped  now ;  beware  how  you 
repeat  it.  Aye,  beware  !  I  am  induced  to  think  that 
that  mysterious  person  is  no  other  than  the  dead  Mari- 
anna,  and  it  is  there  my  son  goes  every  night.  Now,  1 
want  you  to  hang  on  his  steps,  day  and  night.  Dog  him 
to  his  hiding  place.  Contrive  some  way  to  introduce 
yourself  into  the  house  of  that  woman ;  pry  into  her  pri- 
vate life  ;  establish  a  spy  there,  and  speedily  report  to  me. 
If  you  find  it  as  I  suppose,  then  she  must  be  removed. 
Do  you  hear,  sir  ?  " 

"  Say  on,  lady." 

"  Now  listen  to  me,  and  heed  me  well !  Some  dark  night 
a  fire  breaks  out  in  the  center  of  those  old  wooden  houses. 
Many  persons  perish,  but  if  she,  if  Marianna  Glencoe  is 
saved  by  some  accursed  intermeddling  arm,  then  she 
must  be  spirited  away.  Such  things  do  happen,  but  they 
are  familiar  only  to  spirits  like  you  and  your  twin  brother, 
the  devil." 

The  old  man  sits  looking  straight  on  before  him,  as  if 
he  were  gazing  far  into  futurity. 

"  Do  you  understand,  Jew  ?  Do  you  hear  me,  Israeli- 
tish  dog?  What  are  you  staring  at  ?  have  you  turned  to 
stone?" 

"  I  see,  mine  lady,  damage  and  death  to  mine  own  self. 
The  goot  God  of  Jacob  said,  '  Thou  shalt  do  no  murder.' 
I  can't." 

"  Fool !  it  is  too  late  to  talk  thus.  How  many  festering 
sores  and  foul  stains  are  already  hid  away  in  your  craven 
heart?" 

She  takes  from  a  drawer  a  Morocco  casket,  touches  a 
spring,  and  displays  to  the  dazzled  eyes  of  the  Jew  pawn- 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


145 


broker  several  valuable  diamonds.  She  watches  with  a 
curious  eye  the  effect. 

H  Now,  Faggot,  if  you  will  again  get  that  girl  out  of 
the  way,  remove  her  secretly,  put  her  away  securely  this 
time,  all  these  shall  be  yours." 

"  Oh  !  ah  !  oh  !  A  tousand  monish  worth.  I'll  do  it; 
I'll  do  it." 

"  But  when?" 

u  Jest  so  soon  as  I  can  get  de  wires  to  work,"  said  the 
Jew,  now  rubbing  his  hands  as  if  they  itched  to  get  hold 
of  the  gems. 

"  Go  now,  and  see  after  Murray,  but  beware  of  detec- 
tion. Faggot,  were  he  to  catch  you  in  this  dastardly 
business,  he  would  make  no  more  of  wringing  off  your 
head  than  my  cook  would  that  of  the  chicken's  for 
breakfast." 

"  I  knows  it ;  but  now,  mine  honored  lady,  what  surety 
wilt  thou  give  to  old  Faggot  that  thou  wilt  keep  thy  word 
to  him?" 

The  lady  straightened  herself  up,  and  looked  contempt- 
uously down  on  the  poor  cringing  creature  beneath  her. 
"  My  word,  sir  ;  my  pledged  word.  When  did  I  break  it?" 

He  shakes  his  head  doubtingly. 

"  Fool  !  wretch  !  dog  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  What  do 
you  want  ?  What  sort  of  security  ?  Would  you  have  a 
witness  to  this  compact?  " 

"  Jest  thy  name,  lady,  only  a  few  line— write  thy  name 
on  little  scrap  o'  paper." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Mordecai." 

"  Put  down,  in  black  and  white,  dat  thou  promise  to 
deliver  to  me  thy  diamonds  when  certain  servishes  is  done 
(naming  them),  and  den  thy  name." 

"  It  is  very  strange !  You  never  demanded  any  such 
note  of  me  before?"  said  she,  uneasily. 

"No,  lady;  but  all  tings  is  so  uncertain  now;  let  it 


13 


14:6  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

be  so."  He  takes  from  his  pocket  a  little  old  ink-horn  and 
pen.    "  Here  write,  lady." 

She  seems  by  some  strange  impulse,  moved  to  obey  the 
dictation  of  him,  who  for  such  a  series  of  years  has  been 
to  her  the  servilest  of  slaves.     She  writes  — 

"  I  promise  to  pay  over  to  Mordecai  Faggot  my  morocco 
case  of  diamonds,  when  he  brings  me  the  opal  ring  worn 
by  Marianna  G-lencoe.  Geraldine  Murray." 

She  read  it  aloud.  Faggot  frowned,  and  knit  his 
shaggy  brows  until  they  met  together  over  his  nose, 
bringing  in  fearful  juxtaposition  those  little  serpent-like 
eyes. 

"Will  that  do?"  said  the  lady,  looking  at  him  with 
surprise. 

"Yes!  goot  night;"  and  he  went  creeping  off.  Tivvy 
conducted  him  out  through  the  same  secret  way.  When 
they  reached  the  blind  alley,  she  said — 

"  Well,  old  Fire  and  Faggot,  who  got  the  best  of  it  this 
time,  Satan  or  the  Devil?" 

"  Oh  gal,  don't  mention  it.  She  always  does  work  out 
her  own  purposes.  But  I  is  got  her  name,  and  if  she 
betrays  old  Faggot,  and  brings  him  to  de  halter,  he'll 
have  good  company.  Dat  little  scrap  o'  paper  will  fix 
her  bisness  too.    Dat's  all." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  147 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

THE   NEOPHYTE  ACTOR. 

"  0  Loed  !  my  boy,  my  Arthur,  my  fair  son ; 
My  life,  my  joy,  my  soul,  my  all  the  world; 
My  widow's  comfort  and  my  sorrow's  care ! " 

"  Thanks  to  the  gods,  my  boy  has  done  his  duty." 

When  Clarence  awoke  from  that  deep  sleep,  the  day 
was  well-nigh  spent.  It  was  the  mystic  hour  of  twilight, 
when  poor  busy,  toiling,  scheming  human  nature  may 
snatch  a  few  moments  of  repose.  The  child's  first  sensa- 
tion was  that  of  intense  hunger.  (Bemember,  that  poor 
little  boy  had  tasted  nothing  but  a  crust  throughout  the 
day.)  His  first  thought  was  of  his  mother,  then  his 
grandmother;  after  that  his  little  mind  reverted  to  the 
humane  manager.  Seeing  it  was  almost  dark,  he  began 
to  cry. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  ruined  !  I'm  disgraced  !  I've  told  him  a  lie. 
I  must  go  to  him  this  moment." 

He  then  approached  his  mother's  bedside,  and  finding 
her  so  much  improved,  looking  so  well,  and  beautiful  as 
he  thought,  that  in  his  joy  he  forgot  his  griefs.  The 
dear  good  Minny  was  standing  by,  holding  a  waiter,  which 
contained  a  few  delicacies  intended  to  tempt  a  failing 
appetite.  The  odor  of  these  dishes  seem  to  whet  the  keen 
edge  of  the  boy's  hunger,  and  he  is  about  to  ask  Minny  for 
a  portion  of  the  nice  things  when  the  old  lady  entered  (like 
a  good  fairy  the  night  before  Christmas)  bearing  a  great 
tea-board  loaded  down  with  the  comforts  of  a  substantial 
meal.    It  was  soon  spread  out.    Then  the  grandmother, 


148  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

Minny,  and  Clary  surrounded  it.  After  the  thanksgiving, 
that  little  circle  make  themselves  happy,  nay  joyous. 

"  Now,  come  my  bonny  bairn,  and  tell  your  ain  lassie, 
who  was  sae  kind-hearted  as  to  gie  ye  the  siller?" 

"  Oh  !  dear  Minny,  that  brings  to  mind  what  I  had 
again  forgotten.  I  owe  it  all  to  the  good  man  at  the 
old  theater.  I  must  run  off  this  minute.  Come,  Minny 
lassie,  and  help  me  to  don  my  '  martial  cloak.'  " 

"  The  puir  chiel  is  demented !  Ye  must  nae  go  there, 
deary." 

"You  shall  not  go!"  said  the  grandmother;  and  her 
honest  brows  were  corrugated  with  a  frown  of  disappro- 
bation. 

"  My  sweet  bairn,  ye  canna  find  your  way  in  the  dark." 

"I  must  try,  dear  Minny;  don't  say  a  word.  I  have 
promised,  upon  the  honor  of  a  gentleman's  son,  to  go 
back.  My  word  is  out ;  and  would  you  have  me  prove 
myself  not  what  I  said  I  was  ?  " 

"You  shall  not  stir  from  this  house!  You  are  now 
poor  baby !  broken  down  by  toil  and  hardships,  and  your 
young  heart  has  already  known  more  sorrow  than  falls  to 
the  lot  of  most  middle-aged  men,"  rejoined  the  old  lady, 
wiping  her  eyes. 

u  Yes,  I  know  all  that,  grandma ;  but  as  yet  there  is  no 
stain  on  it ;  and,  thank  God,  I  have  never  told  a  lie  in  my 
life.  Would  you  compel  me  now  to  tell  one,  mam  ? " 
and  that  brave  little  man  shuddered  at  the  bare  idea  of 
doing  a  mean  action. 

He  went  up  to  his  mother,  and  whispered  to  her  ear- 
nestly for  a  short  time.  After  which  Myra  called  Minny 
to  her.  "  The  child  must  go,  Minny;  if  you,  or  I  either, 
were  in  his  place,  we  would  desire  to  do  like  him.  "Wrap 
him  up,  dear  girl,  and  start  him  off  as  speedily  as  possible." 

"  What,  alone  !    Nae,  nae  —  I  canna  do  that." 

"  No,  Minny,  not  alone.  God  will  be  with  him.  He 
has  never  forsaken  that  child  yet ;  but  I  think,  has 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


149 


watched  over  him  for  her  sake  (pointing  to  her  grand- 
mother), and  has  fed  him  from  time  to  time,  and  brought 
him  back  in  safety.  My  boy  has  never  yet  been  forced  to 
beg,  thank  God." 

"Aweel,  aweel.  It  is  only  the  truth  ye  ha'  spoken — 'I 
have  never  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  or  their  seed 
begging  bread,'"  says  Minny,  with  pious  fervor. 

While  speaking  she  had  busied  herself  in  wrapping  up 
the  child;  then  putting  on  her  own  cloak  and  bonnet, 
says  to  him,  "  Go  kiss  your  mother  and  grandam,  darling, 
and  let  us  be  off."  On  turning  she  comes  up  against  Doc- 
tor Brown,  who  had  been  an  unnoticed  spectator  of  the 
scene. 

"  Good-bye,  Doctor,"  says  the  child,  and  pulling  Minny 
off  they  leave  the  house. 

He  finds  the  old  lady  in  tears,  but  this  time  Myra  seems 
sustained  by  some  invisible  power.  Presently  they  make 
him  sit  down  and  partake  of  their  banquet.  Mrs.  Wise, 
the  elder,  pours  out  for  him  a  cup  of  the  best  tea,  .places 
before  him  the  most  savory  chop,  with  the  lightest,  short- 
est, and  hottest  of  biscuit.  The  good  little  doctor  thought 
he  had  never  eaten  anything  so  delicious ;  he  sipped  his 
tea,  and  ate  his  supper  with  a  gusto  unknown  to  the  hang- 
ers-on of  hotels  and  restaurants.  But  he  is  troubled  by 
the  silent  sorrow  of  the  old  lady,  who  from  time  to  time 
wipes  her  eyes. 

11  Oh,  madam  !  you  should  not  grieve  thus  ;  you  should 
not  worry  about  this  thing.  It  is  all  for  the  best,  as  sure 
as  you  are  born.  That  child  has  revealed  this  day  the 
germs  of  great  genius,  as  well  as  an  exalted  sense  of 
honor — in  short,  powers  far  beyond  his  years.  I  stood 
by,  an  unperceived  spectator,  and  listened  with  the  pro- 
foundest  admiration  to  the  boy's  remarks  and  arguments." 

"Well!  maybe  so.  But  I  don't  like  prodigies;  they 
never  make  quiet,  useful  citizens.  Besides,  it  is  throwing 
the  child,  so  tender,  and  unformed  as  he  is,  into  the  very 


150  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


jaws  of  Satan,  to  send  him  to  that  terminus  of  vice, 
shame,  and  crime." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  says  the  doctor,  and  he  looks  over  at  the 
invalid.  A  faint  smile  is  flitting  over  that  sweet  face. 
Then  he  rejoins  : 

"Glory,  glory,  madam,  and  fame!  Think  of  that;  in 
one  week  that  boy's  name  will  be  heralded  half  over  the 
New  World." 

"  God  forbid  !  I  would  not  have  his  right  mind  per- 
verted, and  his  pure  soul  blurred  by  what  he  must  meet 
with  there.  God  forbid  that  my  child  should  be  elevated 
through  the  instrumentality  of  those  play-house  hell- 
hounds." 

Myra  looked  troubled,  but  still  tried  to  smile,  while  she 
spoke  in  an  ajjologetic  voice : 

"  My  grandmother  is  very  primitive  in  her  views,  gene- 
rally, and  on  this  one  subject  is  rabid.  Her  knowledge  of 
the  world  has  not  kept  pace  with  this  age  of  improvement. 
Once  a  fearful  misfortune  befell  a  member  of  her  family, 
the  origin  of  which  she  traced  back  to  the  theater.  Hence 
her  apparent  rancor." 

The  door  opens,  and  Minny  enters.  Now  she  is  intro- 
duced in  form  to  Doctor  Brown.  She  sits  down  by  him, 
looking  up  child-like  into  his  face. 

w  I  thank  ye,  Doctor,  for  filling  my  vacant  place  here 
by  the  ingleside."  Her  countenance  is  beaming  with 
satisfaction  and  benevolence. 

Keader,  we  have  told  you  that  Minny  was  not  pretty  : 
we  retract  that  slander.  Such  a  combination  of  elements 
as  we  find  here,  must  make  lovely  much  plainer  features 
than  her's.  She  has  a  rich,  sort  of  creamy-looking  skin,  if 
I  may  so  express  myself,  which  pales  or  flushes  with  her 
emotions,  grey  eyes,  and  very  dark  brown  hair. 

She  is  of  medium  stature,  and  remarkably  well  formed, 
lithe,  and  brisk,  and  active  as  an  antelope.  Yet  we  have 
called  her  little  Minny,  because  the  impression  made  on 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  151 

every  beholder  at  first  is,  that  she  is  small,  and  very 
young.  There  is  such  a  quaint  simplicity  about  her,  such 
a  bewitching  naturalness,  candor  and  truth,  such  inno- 
cence, that  we  can  but  associate  the  winning  graces  of 
childhood  with  our  good  little  Minny  Dun. 

While  she  recounts  her  trip  to  the  theater,  Doctor 
Brown  looks  on  with  a  pleased  admiration.  Myra,  who 
is  quick-sighted  in  all  the  devious  ways  of  the  heart, 
marks  it  all  down  on  the  tablets  of  her  memory  to  be 
brought  up  sometime,  perhaps  with  benefit  to  her  friend. 

"  Well,  Minny,  did  you  thrust  the  poor  young  thing  into 
that  den  of  wild-beasts,  thieves,  robbers  and  murderers?" 

"  Oh,  niver  fash,  niver  fash,  grandam,  nae  harm  will 
come  to  the  sweet  bairn.  Fix  your  trust  above,  then 
none  can  mak'  afraid,"  said  Minny,  kindly  taking  her 
hand. 

"  You  are  back  early,  Miss  Dun  ;  did  you  run  for  your 
life,  all  the  way?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"Nae, nae.  I  had  to  gang  but  a  little  way  before  we 
met  that  good  creature  Murdoch,  who  turned  back  with 
us,  and  seeing  that  the  child  wished  to  hie  along  so  fast, 
he  taks  him  up  in  his  arms,  and  carries  him  a'  the  way. 
It  was  a  lang  weary  '  road  to  ruin '  this  time,  grandam," 
said  Minny,  laughing  merrily. 

"  That  dear,  good-hearted,  honest  fellow,  took  the  bairn, 
as  I  said,  in  his  arms,  and  they  kept  up  a  running  conver- 
sation a'  the  way.  Clarry  placed  his  little  arm  around  the 
neck  of  that  coarse  bear-skin,  and  thus  we  reached  the 
theater.  But  many  times  the  drap  was  in  my  een  to  see 
with  what  tenderness  that  rough-coated  man  treated  the 
bairn  ;  "  and  little  Minny  wiped  her  eyes  again. 

"  Go  on,  Minny,"  said  Myra. 

"  Yes,  but  dear  lady,  there  is  na  much  mair  to  tell. 
Murdoch  went  wi'  us  to  a  place  they  call  the  box-office, 
and  left  the  bairn  in  my  care  while  he  gaes  to  seek  the 
manager.    When  he  comes  back,  I  just  kissed  the  sweet 


152 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


mou'  o'  the  bonny  bairn,  and  taks  my  leave ;  but  all  the 
time  I  kept  looking  back  to  see  how  the  puir  chiel  would 
stand  sic  an  ordeal.  At  last  I  saw  the  handsome  Mr. 
Gooch  come  in.  Clarry  rises,  pulls  off  his  little  cap,  and 
bows  politely ;  just  as  much  sae  as  that  grand  Colonel 
Murray  could  have  done  to  save  his  life." 

At  that  name  Myra  starts  visibly,  and  becomes  very 
pale. 

"  Go  on,  Minny,"  said  she,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"Well,  the  man  bows,  too,  and  says,  'All  hail  young 
prince  !  '  and  then  shaking  his  dear  little  hand,  adds, 
4  Welcome  !  most  welcome  !  Duke  of  York  —  that  is  to 
be.' " 

How  Minny  rises  to  depart.  Dr.  Brown  offers  his  arm, 
and  they  make  their  adieux.  On  going  out,  they  discover 
a  huge  mass  of  cloth  and  coarse  furs  leaning  against  the 
post.  It  moves  off;  a  moment  after  is  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance the  sonorous  voice  of  the  Night  Watch,  crying, 
"  Past  nine  o'clock  !  all's  well." 

"  That's  the  only  lie  the  man  utters,"  said  Dr.  Brown, 
for  the  twelth  time. 

"  Aweel,  he  thinks  o'  na  harm  until  he  sees  it  before 
his  een,"  replied  Minny. 

On  reaching  the  little  toy  shop,  she  unlocks  the  door, 
and  invites  the  doctor  to  enter.  An  invincible  curiosity 
takes  hold  of  him  to  see  the  good  little  creature's  home — 
her  little  fireside.  He  follows  her  in.  After  passing 
through  the  shop  they  enter  that  delicious  little  sitting- 
room  ;  and  there  sits  the  venerable  figure,  in  that  same 
old  stuffed  and  wadded  arm-chair.  She  seems  to  be 
dozing.   Minny  calls  her  very  loudly,  for  she  is  quite  deaf : 

"  Grandmither,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Dr.  Brown, 
Mrs.  Wise's  physician." 

The  old  lady  extends  her  hand  and  says,  with  due 
courtesy,  u  I  am  happy  to  see  ye,  doctor.  Ye  are  welcome 
to  our  ingleside." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  153 

This  old  woman  possessed  an  innate  politeness,  which 
seems  to  belong  to  all  good-hearted,  truly  pious  persons. 
The  genuine  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  induces  this,  I  think, 
without  any  other  training. 

The  doctor  remembering  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  rises 
to  take  his  leave.    Approaching  Minny,  he  says: 

u  Miss  Dun,  I  was  this  morning  entrusted  w7ith  a  com- 
mission, which  troubles  me.  I  think,  perhaps,  you  can 
help  m©  out."  (Dr.  Brown  had  rightly  divined  the  prom- 
inent traits  in  the  girl's  character ;  which  were  decision, 
common  sense,  and  practicality.)  "  That  same  c  bear- 
skin man  '  gave  me  this,"  said  he,  pulling  out  a  purse, 
"  which  he  wishes  appropriated  to  the  necessities  of  Mrs. 
Wise  and  family,  I  have  been  looking  out  for  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  last  hour  to  break  the  matter  to  the  glo- 
rious creature ;  but  I'll  be  blamed  if  I  could  find  one,  or 
words  either." 

"Oh,  niver  try  —  niver  try,  sir.  It  would  na  do  just 
now.  It  would  be  hurled  back  to  puir  dear  Murdoch,  by 
that  high-spirited  woman,  Mrs.  Wise." 

At  the  words,  "  dear  Murdoch,"  the  doctor  winced. 
Somehow  in  this  short  time  he  had  unintentionally  suf- 
fered himself  to  appropriate  Minny.  He  constituted  him- 
self (in  feeling)  her  friend  and  guardian. 

"  I'll  manage  it  for  ye.  Poor  dear  Murdoch  made  a 
bad  beginning.  He  offended  Myra  at  the  outset,  whose 
feelings  are  as  tender  as  a  fresh  wound,  and  as  morbid  as 
an  old  sore,  by  too  plain  showing  of  admiration.  She, 
puir  soul,  has  na  yet  learned  to  forget  and  forgive.  I 
would  na  have  that  honest  Night  Watch's  feelings 
wounded  for  sae  gude  a  deed." 

"  Well,  here  Minny,  take  the  purse." 

The  girl  blushed  crimson,  thus  to  hear  her  name  pro- 
nounced with  such  familiarity  by  the  man  she  had  learned 
to  like  and  respect  so  much. 

On  seeing  her  embarrassment,  he  tried  to  apologize, 


154  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


but  became  himself  confused  —  then  resumed,  in  a  more 
formal  way :  "  Here,  Miss  Dun,  take  the  purse  and  do 
with  its  contents  as  your  own  judgment  may  prompt, 
then  all  will  be  well,  at  least  right."  He  takes  Minny's 
hand,  presses  it  kindly  —  almost  tenderly.  "I  can't  help 
it.  Good  night,  dear  good  little  Minny,  as  everybody 
calls  you." 

On  passing  by  the  hovel,  the  same  dark  mass  moved 
away. 

"  "Well,  I'll  be  blamed  if  that  6  dear  Night  Watch '  (as 
Minny  says)  does  not  confine  his  watch  to  the  house  of 
1  his  lady  love.'  God  forgive  me  for  thus  desecrating  the 
name  of  the  peerless  Myra.  I  know  of  no  one  who  is 
good  or  grand  enough  for  her  but  Charles  Murray." 

When  he  reached  the  theater,  he  stopped  to  listen  to 
that  thundering  applause.  "  Ha !  the  devil  has  broke 
loose  here,  too.  Such  sounds  have  not  a  weakened  the 
echoes  of  these  old  walls  for  many  a  day.  I  will  just 
look  in  and  see  what  it  is." 

On  taking  his  seat  in  a  side  box,  he  meets  an  old  chum. 
"  Good  evening,  Gordon.  What  means  all  this  uproar  in 
the  house?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  only  a  little  novelty." 

"  Well  ?"  responded  the  doctor. 

"  You  know  the  public  have  been  bored  to  death  with 
this  dull  stock  company.  The  same  kings  and  queens, 
with  the  same  purple  and  scarlet  robes ;  the  same  Coras 
and  Eollas  ;  the  same  Desdemonas  and  Othellos ;  in  short, 
the  same  everything ;  so  that  now  they  hail  with  such 
acclamations  the  advent  of  anything  that  is  not  a  part  of 
that  same  sameness.;^ 

"  Well!"  quoth  the  doctor. 

"  This  novelty  makes  its  appearance  on  this  evening  in 
the  shape  of  a  pretty  little  boy —  a  lovely  child  —  a  very 
miracle  of  beauty  and  grace." 

"Ah,  yes!   I  know,"  rejoined  Brown.    "That  little 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


155 


Minny  made  me  forget  everything.  Go  on,  Gordon,  if 
you  please." 

u  The  little  fellow  comes  out  to-night  in  the  '  Dumb 
Show,'  which  is  most  opportune  for  him,  as  the  manager 
only  procured  his  services  two  hours  before  the  curtain 
rose,  as  I  have  just  learned.  But,  for  God's  sake,  look  at 
Murray.  See  how  ghastly  he  looks.  One  would  scarcely 
think  that  he  was  so  soon  to  become  the  lord  and  master 
of  that  haughty  beauty  there  (who  is  now  engaged  in 
such  soft  dalliance  with  the  man  Gaines).  I  should  think 
the  conviction  of  that  fact,  and  that  he  is  so  soon  to  have 
the  control  of  all  those  thousands,  would  bring  him  to 
life.  Now,  by  our  <  patron  saint ! '  he  looks  much  more 
like  mounting  the  pale  horse,  than  a  triumphal  car." 

"  Humph  !  But,  Gordon,  how  do  you  know  that  Murray 
is  to  be  married  to  Miss  Lindsay  ?  " 

"  I  may  not  tell  you,  doctor,  how  I  heard  it ;  but  I 
know  it  to  be  true,  sir.  He  has  just  perceived  his  '  affi- 
anced '  surrounded  by  that  swarm  of  insects.  I  should 
not  like  to  see  my  wife  (that  is  to  be)  leaning  so  affec- 
tionately on  the  arm  of  that  fopling." 

¥  Hush !  Gordon.  Gaines  is  a  right  good  fellow,  and 
would,  I  think,  make  a  better,  more  useful,  maybe  a  more 
suitable  husband  for  the  beauty  than  the  cold,  haughty 
Murray." 

M  Look  !  he  seats  himself  behind  her,  bowing  so  slightly 
to  her  warm  salutations.  Now,  see  how  she  looks  at  him, 
her  face  expressing  as  in  so  many  words,  <  Ah !  proud 
man,  I  hold  you  fast  in  golden  chains,  with  1  half  a  mill- 
ion '  links."  ^  \\ 

"Why,  Gordon,  I'll  be  blamed  if  I  don't  believe  you 
are  jealous  and  envious  too." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  loudly  laughed  the  young  man.  "  No, 
Brown,  I  have  only  spoken  the  truth,  which  is  another 
novelty  in  the  house." 

"  No  such  thing;  the  woman  loves  the  man  devotedly, 


15b 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


passionately,  and  he  is  grateful  for  it.  He  cares  not  for 
her  gold.  She  is  naturally  disposed  to  be  a  coquette,  and 
you  have  all,  every  one  of  you,  helped  to  foster  this  dis- 
position. Now,  when  you  see  your  own  handy-work  ma- 
tured, you  stand  back  and  find  fault,  and  blame  her  for 
being  what  you  yourselves  have  made  her." 

The  curtain  rises;  a  train  of  villagers  advance  with 
Clarence  at  their  head.  He  is  the  presiding  divinity,  and 
is  presumed  to  be  deaf  and  dumb,  but  omniscient  withal. 
He  is  magnificently  attired,  glittering  with  jewels ;  his 
beautiful  golden  locks  hang  in  graceful  curls  over  his  neck 
and  shoulders,  which  are  bare.  A  bright  tinge  of  carna- 
tion on  his  cheeks  gives  luster  to  those  deep  violet  eyes, 
so  full  of  light  and  darkness.  He  walks  as  if  he  had  trod 
the  boards  for  years  —  with  the  majesty  of  a  real  king. 

When  the  train  are  all  on  the  stage,  he  turns,  takes  off 
his  cap,  faces  them,  standing  still  and  very  erect.  They 
kneel  and  render  homage,  and  now  the  reverberating  plau- 
dits are  stunning. 

It  was  not  in  character  for  the  mute  prince  to  hear  or 
to  speak;  but  nature  prevailed  over  art.  Just  then  the 
child  wheeled  about  —  his  countenance  radiant  as  one  just 
dropped  from  heaven  —  smiled  and  bowed  to  the  audience. 
The  overwhelming  tide  of  applause  continued  to  roll  on. 
Then  the  boy  approached  quite  near  to  the  foot-lights, 
knelt  down,  raised  his  little  cap  in  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  sends  many  kisses  to  the  audience.  The 
house  is  electrified.  Then  follow  a  few  moments  of  deep 
silence,  induced  by  admiration,  and  maybe  something  bet- 
ter. They  had  forgotten  that  this  was  a  departure  from 
all  rule  and  precedent ;  that  the  child  had  lost  sight  of  the 
character  which  he  had  to  sustain.  They  only  saw  that 
boy  of  such  superhuman  beauty. 

The  group  of  kneeling  figures  start  up,  surround  their 
prince,  raise  him  above  their  heads,  and  bear  him  off  in 
triumph,  but  not  before  he  has  tossed  up  his  cap  into  mid- 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  157 

air,  shouting,  "  Huzza  !  huzza  !  long  live  my  friend,  Mr. 
Gooch."  Now  it  seems  that  those  old  walls  will  eome 
down.  Peal  after  peal  resounds  long  after  the  curtain 
has  dropped. 

Immediately  on  leaving  the  stage,  Clarence  had  run  up 
to  the  property  room,  for  the  purpose  of  undressing.  He 
commenced  tugging  at  his  gaudy  trappings,  but  finding 
that  he  could  not  disengage  himself  from  their  trammels, 
he  sat  down  and  began  to  weep. 

"  How  now,  my  prince  of  beauty,  and  of  little  devils  ? 
What !  crying,  after  such  a  hit?  I  tell  you,  my  fine  little 
man,  your  fortune  is  made." 

He  looks  up  at  the  kind-hearted  "  tire  woman." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear  ma'am,  I  can't  help  it.  Just  help  me  to 
put  off  these  things,  and  to  put  on  my  clothes." 

"  Not  yet,  my  darling  ;  you  will  have  to  go  down  again. 
There  will  be  showers  of  presents  for  you.  The  boxes 
and  pit  will  rain  gold  on  your  own  golden  head  directly." 

"  Oh  !  no,  ma'am,  I  can't  wait ;  I  have  performed  my 
part  and  fulfilled  my  promise,  now  I  must  run  home.  I 
would  not  make  my  mother  so  unhappy  for  this  house 
full  of  gold." 

Then  the  woman  proceeded  to  disrobe  him.  When  she 
had  finished,  and  he  had  put  on  his  clothes,  he  threw  his 
little  arms  around  her  neck  and  kissed  her.  "  Thank  you, 
ma'am,  and  good  night." 

He  was  running  down  stairs,  when  Mr.  Gooch  ap- 
proached. 

"  My  son,  they  will  not  rest  until  they  see  you  before 
the  foot-lights.  The  house  is  clamoring  for  1  the  child,' 
'the  beautiful  boy,'  1  master  whoever-he-is.'  Oh  !  Jenny, 
why  did  you  disrobe  him  ?  But  never  mind,  he  is  look- 
ing very  beautiful.  Now,  just  touch  these  curls  over, 
which  look  so  much  like  golden  threads,  with  sunbeams 
playing  through  them.  So  !  come  along,  before  they  burst 
their  throats." 

%  WGSMF 


158 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


The  child  was  dressed  in  a  little  suit  of  green  cloth, 
with  shirt-collar  edged  with  fine  lace — thanks  again  to  the 
thrift  of  dear  little  Minny.  The  manager  leads  him  out 
in  front  of  the  curtain,  and  announces  Master  Olarens. 
And  now  again  burst  forth  those  shouts,  mingled  with  the 
clink  of  silver  and  gold,  as  it  falls  like  hail  from  gallery, 
pit,  and  boxes. 

u  Mercy !   What  a  harvest !   What  a  shower  of  metal !  " 

Clarry,  contrary  to  all  stage  etiquette,  pulled  away  from 
the  manager,  who  essayed  still  to  hold  him  fast  by  the 
hand,  and  giving  one  glad,  grateful  look  to  the  audience, 
sets  about  gathering  up  the  money. 

Presently  the  child  comes  up  to  Mr.  Gooch  (who  is 
looking  on  in  placid  wonderment),  and  dropping  grace- 
fully on  ore  knee,  in  real  play-house  style,  with  mock 
reverence  offers  the  little  cap,  which  is  half  full.  Just 
then  the  full  orchestra  strikes  up,  and  the  house  is  in  an 
uproar.  Some  throw  their  hats,  gloves,  and  caps,  and  writh 
more  heedless  temerity  than  discretion  or  good  taste, 
jump  on  the  stage. 

When  Clarence  comes  out  in  citizen's  dress,  and  raises 
his  sweet,  plaintive,  and  weary-looking  eyes  to  the  boxes, 
Murray  starts  to  his  feet ;  he  recognizes  the  little  boy  he 
had  once  met  in  the  church.  Then  quickly  flashes 
athwart  his  mind  the  recollection  of  certain  events,  times 
and  places.  The  resemblance  to  her  and  many  things 
which  were  forgotten  are  now  reflected  on  the  mirror  of 
his  bewildered  mind.  He  leaves  the  box  abruptly,  for- 
getting that  he  had  escorted  Miss  Lindsay  there  ;  he  goes 
to  the  private  door — has  bribed  the  keeper  to  admit  him, 
finds  his  way  to  the  green-room,  and  inquires  in  a  hur- 
ried, agitated  voice  for  Master  Clarens. 

The  prompter  points  to  a  figure  just  moving  off,  with  a 
child  in  his  arms  very  much  muffled  up :  "  There,"  said 
the  man,  "  that  good-hearted  Night  Watch  brought  him 
here  in  his  arms  and  so  he  carries  him  away." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


159 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    LOVER.  —  SOUL-PHASES.  m 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  mournful  eloquence 
In  thy  dumb  grief,  which  shames  all  clam'rous  sorrow." 

"  Why  let  the  stricken  deer  go  weep,  the  heart  ungalled  play ; 
For  some  must  watch,  while  some  must  sleep ;  so  runs  the  world  away." 

It  was  near  midnight ;  the  old  lady  sat  rocking  herself 
as  usual.  Myra  had  been  assisted  to  rise,  and  was  rolled 
up  in  a  blanket,  reclining  in  a  comfortable  sick-chair. 
By-the-by,  both  of  these  articles  of  luxury  had  been 
loaned  to  the  poor  invalid  by  their  little  friend.  She  was 
looking  very  patient  and  quiescent,  while  her  grand- 
mother was  nervous  and  perturbed.  They  seemed  to 
have  changed  natures ;  the  elder  lady  had  let  go  her  trust 
in  this  case,  while  the  younger  one  appeared  to  have 
taken  hold  of  hope  with  a  pertinacity  equalled  only  by 
her  former  despair. 

"  Grandma,  I  heard  the  name  of  one  to-night  whom  I 
thought  far  away,  beyond  the  seas." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  "  says  the  old  lady,  rocking  herself  even 
more  violently  than  ever.  "  That  little  Minny  has  few 
faults,  but  like  all  other  lassies  when  there  is  a  lad  in  the 
way,  her  tongue  grows  lax  and  frivolous.  I  think,  Myra, 
she  was  mightily  taken  up  with  Doctor  Brown,  consider- 
ing they  were  strangers." 

"I  think  not  too  much  so,  grandma.  I  remarked  a 
look  of  surprized  admiration  on  the  countenance  of  the 
Doctor." 

"  "Well !  maybe  so.    I  do  wish  he  would  fall  dead  in 


160 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


love  with  her,  and  they  would  marry  ere  long" — her  little 
fit  of  ill-humor  now  giving  way  to  that  universal  philan- 
thropy which  generally  pervaded  her  nature. 

°*  But  dear  mother,  this  is  wholly  irrelevant  to  the  sub- 
ject. Do  you  know  whether  Charles  Murray  is  here,  or 
even  in  the  United  States?  " 

The  old  lady  turns  about  restlessly ;  then  says :  "  I  do 
not  know  anything  about  your  cousin  Charles.  Never 
saw  him  as  I  know  of,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  Everything 
that  is  sad  and  painful,  is  associated  in  my  mind  with  his 
name.  Your  own  pitiful  destiny,  your  mother's  melan- 
choly death,  and  the  name  of  Charles  Murray  are 
stereotyped  on  my  heart  —  yet  I  never  saw  the  man. 
I  understand  that  he  wTas  a  noble,  generous  fellow,  and 
handsome  withal." 

"  Oh  yes,  yes !  He  w^as  godlike  in  all  things ;  one  to 
whom  the  heart  would  naturally  turn  in  time  of  love  and 
prosperity,  and  the  soul  cling  in  the  hour  of  darkness  and 
adversity ;  to  love  and  trust  at  all  times,  and  worship 
evermore."  Myra,  while  speaking,  had  clasped  her  hands 
together,  and  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven  —  the  finest  per- 
sonification of  adoration. 

"  Nonsense !  Tut,  tut.  Now  child  you  are  going  off 
again.  If  you  are  about  to  mount  your  stilts,  I  want  to 
retire.  Why  do  you  think  of  the  past?  Look  ahead, 
look  ahead,  and  think  of  the  present,  too." 

"  O  God  !  I  have  no  present  —  no  future.  Compared 
with  that  one  season  of  past  happiness,  that  Elysium  of  joy 
and  rapture,  my  present  life  is  a  blank  !  It  is  worse  !  a 
thousand  times  worse !  Oh,  would  I  were  dead !  Oh 
that  I  were  a  nonentity  !  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  old  lady of  course  you  do; 
having  now  no  duties  on  earth  to  perform ;  no  interest 
here  below ;  no  G-od  to  please,  no  crown  to  win  in  heaven ; 
no  aged  parent,  whose  passage  to  the  grave  should  be 
smoothed  ;  no  child  to  " 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


161 


She  starts  as  if  affrighted.  "  Oh,  forgive  me,  dear  mother, 
I  have,  I  fear,  committed  a  great  sin." 

"  Ask  God!  to  forgive  you  then,  poor  child.  Ask  Christ 
to  plead  for  yon.  I  do  indeed  consider  it  a  great  sin, 
thus  to  overlook,  or  shut  your  eyes  to  all  these  comforts," 
said  the  grandmother,  looking  round. 

"  You  will  pray  for  me,  will  you  not,  dear  mother?  " 

A  rap.  "  Ah  !  here  you  are,  my  bonny  bairn,  as  Minny 
calls  you.  Come  in,  friend  Murdoch ;  come  to  the  fire, 
and  warm  yourself,"  said  the  old  lady. 

m  Thank  you,  but  it  is  late,  and  maybe  I  had  better  not." 
He  had  placed  the  child  on  the  floor,  who  ran  joyfully  and 
bounded  into  his  mother's  lap. 

"Not  so,  never  too  late  to  render  thanks  to  a  good  man 
ibr  such  services.  Come  and  warm  yourself,  good  Mur- 
doch, for  this  night  is  as  cold  and  pitiless  as  the  frozen, 
flinty  hearts  of  the  rich  and  grand."  She  takes  his  hand 
and  draws  him  to  the  fire. 

The  child  is  whispering  to  his  mother.  They  hear  him 
say,  "  He  has  been  so  kind  to  me,  mamma." 

She  answers,  "  Certainly,  my  love,"  kissing  him  ten- 
derly.   "My  own  heart  prompts  such  a  course." 

So  when  Murdoch  stands  there,  she  ri&es,  wrapping  the 
blanket  still  more  closely  around  her,  offers  him  her  lit- 
tle, soft,  white  hand,  and  begins  to  utter  some  words  of 
thanks.  The  little  hand  is  grasped  by  that  bear-skin 
paw,  and  pressed  with  such  energy  as  would,  if  contin- 
ued, have  crushed  those  slender  bones. 

Finding  she  drew  away  quickly,  he  raised  his  eyes  with 
an  humble,  deprecatory  look,  and  then  dropped  his  head 
on  his  breast.  He  had  met  only  an  expression  of  amaze- 
ment in  her  gentle  eyes  ;  but  the  poor,  stricken  man  could 
not  endure  the  refulgence  of  those  glorious  orbs,  so  full 
of  all  the  best  and  brightest  emotions  which  belong  to 
earth,  and  heaven  too,  for  aught  Murdoch  knew  or  could 
think,  or  reason  either.  The  good  Night  Watch  was  past 
14 


162 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


anything  of  the  sort  now.  The  touch  of  that  little  hand 
had  set  in  motion  the  electric  fluid,  which  carried  a  tele- 
graphic dispatch  to  every  little,  hidden,  secret  place  in  his 
heart.  The  great  soul  of  that  rude  man  raised  itself  to 
God,  through  the  reverential  devotion  it  felt  for  His  image 
there  before  him. 

T  know  not  how  he  would  have  managed  to  quell,  at 
least  conceal,  those  feelings  from  the  lady;  for  all  pure 
and  honest  as  his  purposes  were,  the  fastidious  and  un- 
tamed Myra  would  have  thought  it  an  abomination  for 
a  man  in  his  sphere  to  have  poured  out  his  heart's 
blood  even  in  her  service,  if  prompted  by  love.  All  des- 
olate and  prostrate  by  sorrows,  sickness,  poverty,  almost 
starvation  —  she  never  dreamed  of  descending  from  her 
high  seat.  Since  the  real  world  was  shut  out  from 
her,  since  she  was  separated  from  all  that  was  alluring 
and  was  no  longer  permitted  to  mingle  with  kindred 
natures,  she  had  created  a  world  for  herself,  and  in  her 
fervid  imagination  had  peopled  it  with  creatures  only  a 
little  less  than  the  angels.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that 
she  usually  appeared  abstracted,  cold,  and  sometimes 
haughty  ?  These  generally  sufficed  to  soothe  her.  But 
when  those  same  hard  realities,  those  stern  necessities 
which  are  without  law,  came,  and  she  is  forced  to  contem- 
plate life  as  it  is,  she  then,  as  well  as  others,  must  need 
succumb.  Nowr  comes  conscience,  bringing  self-reproach, 
and  memory's  vast  store-house  is  unlocked.  She  shud- 
ders, shrinks,  and  dashes  this  mirror  of  the  mind  to  the 
earth.  It  is  shivered,  but  she  finds  her  frenzy  has  only 
furnished  fragments  by  which  her  woes  are  multiplied. 

Dear  reader,  our  sympathy  for  the  lovely  but  ill-fated 
Myra  has  caused  us  to  ramble.  We  return  to  the  Night 
Watch.  We  were  thinking  that  he  could  not  extricate 
himself  from  that  bewildering  dilemma,  but  just  then  his, 
and  everybody's  good  genius,  little  Minny  Dun,  came 
skipping  into  the  room. 


»      .     THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  163 

"  I  bid  ye  good  even,  friends.  How  do  ye  do,  Mur- 
doch ?  "  giving  her  hand. 

"  Oh  !  my  sweet  birdie  !  come  to  yer  ain  lassie." 

Clarence  had  climbed  to  the  knee  of  Murdoch  and,  intu- 
itively seeing  there  was  something  wrong,  he  clasps  his 
arms  around  his  neck,  as  was  his  custom  toward  all  whom 
he  loved,  and  kissed  him  several  times,  through  that  mass 
of  heavy,  black  beard. 

"  Come  here,  darling,  and  tell  Minny  all  about  it."  She 
offers  to  take  him.    (This  is  done  to  please  Myra,  who  is 
really  shocked  at  the  child's  familiarity.) 
•   She  is  arrested  by  a  call:  "  Minny,  Minny  Dun,  come 
here.'* 

Minny  flies  to  the  old  lady,  who  is  again  bending  under 
the  weight  of  the  same  tea-board. 

"  Here,  child,  help  me.  You  see,  children  (she  draws 
the  little  table  to  the  fire),  in  the  halls  of  my  father  it 
was  taught  us  with  our  religion,  if  a  stranger  came  to  our 
door,  he  must  not  go  away  as  such.  If  any  came  cold  and 
hungry,  they  must  be  fed  and  warmed.  I  can  not  do  as 
I  was  trained,  but  the  disposition  is  left,  while  the  power 
is  almost  gone.  Yet  somebody  has  said,  '  where  there's  a 
will  there's  a  way,'  and  I  believe  that  doctrine." 

While  talking,  she  had  busied  herself  in  pouring  out 
cups  of  fine,  clear,  hot  coffee.  Then  there  were  crackers, 
and  cakes,,  and  sardines,  with  a  leetle  bottle  of  wine. 

"Now  come,  friends,  and  surround  the  board  of  Mrs. 
Glen  " 

An  impatient  and  frightened  look  from  Myra  arrested 
the  half-spoken  wTord,  and  she  added  in  a  subdued  tone, 
"  Of  poor  old  Mrs.  Wise.  My  daughter,  will  you  come? 
Murdoch  will  wheel  your  chair  to  the  table?" 

Myra  frowned,  and  Minny,  with  her  usual  tact,  added : 
"  Nae,  nae!  notsa;  that  auld  lady  maun  bide  in  the  cor- 
ner and  munch  her  cracker  soaked  in  a  little  wine,  while 
we  young  folks  enjoy  a'  these  good  things." 


164 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H 


So  they  sit  there  chatting,  and  laughing,  and  eating, 
and  drinking.  Murdoch  seems  to  have  recovered  himself. 
He  is  not  hilarious,  like  Minny  and  Clarry,  but  he  seems 
quiet,  and  for  the  time,  happy.  He  has  told  them  all 
with  which  the  reader  has  already  been  made  acquainted, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh !  it  was  a  high  trump,  a  mighty  hit,  a 
marvelous  success  !  " 

The  child  has  fallen  asleep  in  Minny's  arms,  and  now 
she  says,  as  the  old  lady  relieves  her  of  her  charge,  "  Mur- 
doch, do  you  hear  that  cry?  '  Past  o-n-e  o'c-l-o-c-k.'  I 
must  e'en  bundle  and  go." 

She  rose,  and  kissing  both  ladies,  turns  to  the  man,  who 
is  trying  to  pull  something  from  his  pocket.  "  What  is 
that,  Murdoch  ?  " 

"  'Tis  the  child's  wages  ;  the  manager  gave  it  to  me  to 
fetch  for  him.  He  said  it  was  not  the  custom  of  the  house, 
but  the  boy  earned  it  honestly,  and  he  wanted  him  to 
have  it.  His  own  little  cap  was  pretty  nigh  half  full,  but 
he  kept  giving  away  piece  by  piece  until  it  has  dwindled 
down  to  this." 

"  Oh,  you  dinna  tell  me,  gude  man,  that  all  this  siller 
belongs  to  my  little  birdie?  " 

She  takes  the  silk  handkerchief,  and  going  to  the  table, 
pours  out  the  contents  of  gold  and  silver  coin,  and  counts 
it.    "  Forty  and  five  —  and  "  

"  That  will  do,  Minny.  Do,  if  you  please,  sir,  keep  the 
balance.  Do  oblige  me.  It  would  make  the  dear  child 
so  happy." 

"  I  can't,  ma'am ;  indeed  I  can  not  do  it,"  says  Murdoch. 
"  Then  you  wound  our  feelings  by  refusing,"  said  Myra, 
with  emotion. 

Minny  gives  him  a  sign  to  accept;  but  while  she  is 
again  kissing  adieu  to  Myra,  Murdoch  very  quietly  places 
the  coin  on  the  mantle-piece.  On  leaving,  as  they  opened 
the  door,  somebody  swept  by  them  so  briskly,  that  they 
could  not  discern  who  it  was. 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


165 


"  Murdoch,  I  do  believe  that  was  old  Faggot,"  said 
Minny. 

"  Yes,  the  same  thought  struck  me.  I'll  bet  my  life 
that  he  has  been  peering  through  the  window.  Let  us  go 
back,  and  ascertain  whether  he  could  see  through  that 
blue  rag,  there.  If  he  has  been  watching  you,  while  you 
counted  the  gold,  I  must  at  once  sound  my  rattle,  and  set 
a  guard  over  the  house." 

"  I  dinna  think  it  will  be  well  to  do  sae,  Murdoch.  It 
would  scare  Mrs.  Wise  to  death.  Now,  you  gude  man,  as 
ye  are,  jest  take  your  stand  by  the  post,  as  ye  do  every 
night."  And  Minny  sent  forth  a  little  merry  but  harm- 
less giggle. 

"  Pshaw !  nonsense,  Minny,  what  makes  you  such  a 
little  fool?" 

"  Nature,  I  reckon,  Murdoch.  You  ken  I  didna'  mak' 
my  ain  sel." 

When  they  found  themselves  before  the  window,  all 
seemed  secure,  and  there  was  no  gleam  of  light  issuing 
from  it. 

"  They  have  mended  the  slit  in  that  old  window-cover. 
They  used  to  sit  there,  with  it  gaping  wide  open ;  so  that 
all  who  passed  might  see,"  said  Murdoch. 

"That  was  when  the  puir  bodies  were  so  bowed  with 
greeting  and  glamouring." 

"  They  are  happy  now,  are  they,  Minny?  Oh,  girl," 
says  he,  griping  her  arm,  "  I  would  lay  down  this  rough 
carcass,  and  be  trampled  to  death — have  the  soul  crushed 
out  of  me,  if  that  woman  could  walk  over  it  to  comfort 
and  happiness." 

"  O  Murdoch,  what  mak's  you  sic  a  fool?  " 

"  The  Devil,  I  reckon,  Minny,  and  that  woman's  pretty 
face." 

"Listen  to  me,  dear  Murdoch,  you  must  get  o'er  all 
this  !    Ye  are  the  humble  1  Night  Watch'  o'  these  streets. 
•  Ye  are  hardly  seen  or  known  in  the  light  o'  day.  There 


166 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH, 


is  a  great  gulf  between  you.  You  are  the  black,  murky 
night.  She  is  the  winsome,  glorious  day.  Think  not  ©' 
her,  Murdoch,  an  ye  love  your  ain  soul !  You  wad  peril 
your  body,  I  know;  but  mind  the  soul,  man  !  that  which 
ye  have  in  trust  only,  frae  God :  you  may  not  offer  up  the 
soul  o'  your  body  on  any  altar  save  one  !  God  will  require 
it  at  your  hands !  Think  nae  mair  about  that  haughty 
woman,  Murdoch." 

»  Why,  Minny,  she  is  poor  and  defenseless,  uncared-for, 
and  unknown ;  and  if  I  am  just  what  you  say  I  am,  why 
should  she  scorn  this  heart,  which,  God  knows,  has  never 
yet  nursed  a  mean  or  a  dishonest  thought  or  purpose  ? 
You  are  hard  upon  me,  Minny.  I  am  not  so  lowly  as  you 
think  me,  perhaps.  I  am  as  high  up  in  the  wrorld  now  as 
she  is  ;  I  am,  may  be,  as  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  heaven 
as  she  —  and  "  

"  Oh,  niver  mind  all  that.  May  be  ye  are  mair  sae. 
You  may  be  altogether  better.  Still  think  not  o'  her.  I 
advise  ye  for  your  ain  gude." 

"  But  Minny,  will  nothing  move  her?  Will  not  this 
devotion,  which  would  shame  the  love  of  all  others  before? 
If  I  lay  down  my  life,  will  she  not  then  think  kindly 
of  me  ?  " 

"  Mae,  nae  !  not  in  the  way  ye  wish,  I  ween.'* 
"  I  can  not  live  thus,"  said  the  man,  dropping  his  arms 
down  heavily  by  his  side.  u  Minny,  dear  Minny !  if  you 
should  hear,  some  day,  that  I  have  thrown  myself  from 
that  old  bridge  into  the  flood  beneath,  will  you  tell  her 
that  I  died  a  martyr  to  that  love  which  I  dared  not 
confess." 

"  Oh,  niver  fash !  Gude  Murdoch,  shake  it  all  off ;  rouse 
up,  man.    There's  a  good  time  coming  to  us  a' 

"  Grandam  says  so,  and  she  knows.  She  believes  in 
dreams,  and  sae  do  I.  Last  night  wre  both  dreamed  the 
same  dream,  and  I  canna'  forget  it." 

v;  What  was  the  dream.  Minny?  " 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


167 


"  I  have  nae  time  to  tell  it  to  ye  now.  But  'tis  the 
sign  o'  good  times;  mair  by  token  there's  a  good  time 
coming." 

"  But,  Minny,  the  lady  was  not  so  haughty  to  me 
to-night?" 

M  Oh,  but  it  is  a'  nothing ;  trust  not  to  symptoms."  She 
turned  quickly,  and  looking  him  keenly  in  the  face,  says : 
"  Murdoch,  I'll  jest  ask  ye  one  question,  an  ye'll  let 
me?"  

"  Say  on,"  groaned  the  man. 

"  Wad  ye  tak'  an  empty  casket  and  wear  it  in  your  ain 
bosom,  when  its  gem  had  gone  to  enrich  that  of  another  ? 
Wad  ye  ?  Tell  me  that,  man  ?  Ye  had  nae  thought  o1 
that,  had  ye,  friend?"  He  walks  on  moodily,  without 
speaking.    Then  he  recovers  himself  and  looks  about. 

u  Minny,  we  are  at  least  a  mile  from  your  house." 

"Oh,  I  kenned  it  a'  the  time,  Murdoch;  but  I  thought  it 
wad  do  ye  good ;  help  to  cool  the  fever  in  your  brain,  and 
may  be  put  out  that  flame  in  your  heart.  I  would  save  ye, 
Murdoch,  for  I  know  ye  are  an  honest  and  true-hearted 
man.    But  Lucifer  has  set  you  on  fire,  puir  man  ! " 

Ere  they  arrive  at  the  door  of  the  little  toy-shop,  Minny 
has  reasoned  him  into  a  more  genial  mood.  There  is, 
therefore,  no  trace  of  his  former  fierceness  in  his  tone,  as 
he  bids  her  "  Good  night." 

The  next  day  Mr.  G-ooch  of  the  Theater,  called  at 

the  hovel,  and  being  a  generous  as  well  as  just  man,  offers 
a  liberal  salary  for  the  services  of  the  little  Clarry.  The 
grandmother  grows  fiercely  angrj7,  and  seems  disposed  to 
show  the  good  man  the  door.  But  Myra  listens  with  a 
pleased  and  gratified  attention  to  the  hyperbolical  praises 
of  her  darling.  She  does  not  consent  to  his  terms  until 
he  pledges  himself  by  a  written  contract,  to  give  the 
child  two  hours  instruction  in  the  useful  branches  every 
day.  "  I  would  not  part  with  my  child.  I  would  not 
give  him  up  to  you  thus,  soul  and  body,  knowing  how 


168 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


plastic  is  childhood's  tender  mind,  if  I  did  not  feel  a  sort 
of  premonition,  that  you  would  deal  justly  by  us,  and  that 
you  are  not  only  upright,  but  sympathetic  and  benevo- 
lent. I  have  not  the  facilities  to  educate  my  son.  Scarce 
can  I  find  covering  for  his  tender  limbs,  or  suitable  food 
for  his  delicate  frame.  Why  and  howl  have  been  reduced 
to  this  necessity  —  in  what  way  and  by  whose  instru- 
mentality I  have  been  dragged  down  to  this  miserable 
condition  (looking  around  her),  it  boots  me  not  to  tell. 
Let  it  suffice  to  know,  that  none  here  or  elsewhere  have 
been  more  tenderly  nurtured,  or  more  affectionately  cared 
for.  None  in  the  whole  land  can  boast  of  higher  and 
purer  lineage.  But  I  am  now  what  you  see  me,  and 
must  bide  God's  own  time  to  restore  the  right,  and  pun- 
ish the  wrong.  I  entrust  you  with  the  only  jewel  I  have 
left.  Guard  it  as  you  prize  your  own  life  ;  as  you  desire 
the  well-being  of  your  loved  ones ;  as  you  value  your 
immortal  soul ;  above  all,  as  you  love  Christ,  and  hope 
for  mercy  through  him  in  that  last  day  —  that  solemn 
scene  in  the  closing  act  of  the  drama  of  life — I  conjure 
you  to  shield  my  heart's  treasure  from  harm  and  from 
vice." 

The  manager  is  deeply  moved,  goes  to  the  window,  and 
wipes  his  eyes.  He  sees  a  Bible  lying  open,  brings  it  to 
Myra,  and  proceeds  to  swear. 

"  Stop  !  "  says  the  lady,  placing  her  own  little  white 
hand  on  his  ;  "  I  will  trust  to  your  simple  word.  Hon- 
esty is  written  on  your  face,  and  your  name  stands  high 
on  Fame's  peerage  roll.    Take  him.    I  will  trust." 

He  now  proceeded  to  arrange  the  terms.  The  little 
boy  was  to  go  early  every  morning,  the  Sabbath  excepted  ; 
the  whole  of  that  day  would  belong  to  his  mother.  He 
should  receive  all  requisite  instruction,  have  proper  hours 
for  recreation  and  exercise  :  the  rest  of  the  time  would 
be  taken  up  in  getting  ready  and  in  rehearsing  his  little 
role. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


169 


"  That  will  do,"  said  the  young  mother.  "I  trust  to 
your  kind  heart  that  he  shall  not  be  overtasked." 

"  Come  here,  Clarence,"  said  she,  and  the  child  ran  in 
from  the  kitchen,  where  he  had  been  assisting  his  grand- 
mother. His  sweet  baby  face  was  blurred  and  smutted, 
with  soot  and  coal  dust ;  and  his  hands  were  red  and  stiff 
with  cold.  He  wore  a  long-sleeved,  coarse,  linen  apron. 
On  perceiving  Mr.  Gooch,  he  stops,  looking  abashed  :  but 
quickly  recovering  himself,  he  goes  up  to  him. 

u  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  My  little  prince,  come  doff  that  linen 
vesture,  and  assume  the  royal  purple." 

Myra  takes  off  the  apron,  washes  his  face,  smooths  his 
hair,  curling  each  bright  lock  over  her  own  tiny  fingers. 
When  she  has  finished,  he  agains  turns  to  Mr.  Gooch,  who 
exclaims,  with  a  genuine  burst  of  admiration, 

"  Hail,  once  more,  Duke  of  York !  I  think  he  is  a 
wonderful  genius." 

" Not  so,"  said  Myra.  "He  used  to  go  sometimes  to 
the  theater,  where  everything  was  explained  to  him ; 
and  we  have  read  many  of  the  popular  plays  together ; 
also  a  few  of  Shakspeare's ;  and  having  a  fine  memory,  he 
would  frequently  be  able  afterward  to  repeat  whole  pages. 
Then,  for  amusement,  and  in  sheer  idleness,  I  would 
instruct  him  in  some  simple  rules  of  elocution.  Many 
times  before  he  has  been  hailed  £  Duke  of  York.'  Some- 
times he  has  ventured  on  <  Eichard,'  and  '  Albert,'  and 
others." 

"All  this  will  now  bring  its  reward.  It  will  most 
assuredly  be  repaid  to  you  a  thousand  fold  in  the  success 
of  your  son ;  in  the  pride  you  are  bound  to  feel  in  his 
brilliant  career.  It  will  also  return  to  you  in  a  golden 
harvest.  Will  you  allow  me,  madam,  to  pay  a  month's 
salary  in  advance." 

u  Oh  no  !  I  pray  you  do  not  place  me  under  this  obli- 
gation ;  permit  me  to  decline.  See  what  he  brought  home 
last  night,"  showing  the  pieces  of  gold  and  silver  coin. 
15 


170  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

"  We  shall  need  no  more  until  he  has  won  his  wTay  to 
public  favor,  and  is  deemed  worthy  of  his  hire." 

"  Should  you  need  any  aid  or  service,  of  whatever 
nature,  will  you  honor  me  with  your  commands  ?  " 

She  thanked  him  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  having 
embraced  the  child  tenderly,  over  and  over  again,  hands 
him  to  Mr.  Gooch. 

"Madam,"  says  he,  presenting  his  hand,  " may  I  hope 
that  you  will  permit  me  sometimes  to  call  on  you  along 
with  my  protege  ?  " 

Myra  blushed,  but  replied  quickly,  "  I  fear,  sir,  I  must 
forego  this  pleasure,  for  the  present.  When  I  am  differ- 
ently situated  it  will  afford  me  the  greatest  gratification. 
I  will  advise  you  of  that  time  through  my  son,  and  will 
then  hope  to  see  you." 

"  Sir,  will  you  not  let  me  take  my  tea  every  evening 
with  my  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  says  Myra,  eagerly;  "I  had  forgotten  to 
stipulate  for  that." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Gooch ;  "  anything  and  every- 
thing, in  reason,  shall  be  permitted.  Good  morning, 
madam." 

Another  kiss  on  that  sweet,  dewy  mouth,  and  an  ardent 
embrace  from  the  child,  and  she  is  alone. 

"And  is  he  gone?"  she  exclaims  with  "  Medora." 
"  And  is  he  gone  !  Is  Conrad  gone  !  " 

"  Yes,  he's  gone,"  quoth  the  old  lady ;  "  he  is  gone ;  and 
where  is  he  gone  ?  And  who  has  sent  him  on  his  way  to 
perdition.  Oh,  Myra  !  you  will  regret  it ;  I  fear  you  will 
rue  the  day  that  you  ever  saw  that  man,  that  Mr.  Goose, 
or  whatever  else  his  hateful  name  is.  What  is  his  name?" 

"  Gooch,  madam." 

M  Well,  I  don't  care ;  I  hate  him,  any  how.  He  has 
taken  the  only  sunbeam  from  this  house.  Sad,  and  dreary, 
and  deep  is  the  gloom  of  this  place  to  me  now!  " 

"  Grandma,  hush !  for  God's  sake  hush !    Would  you 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


171 


upset  what  little  courage  I  may  have  drawn  from  the 
hope  of  having  done  my  duty?  Would  you  have  that 
gifted  child  to  be  forever  a  '  Hewer  of  wood,  and  drawer 
of  water?'" 

"  I  would  have  him,  when  he  quits  this  world  prepared 
to  mingle  with  pure  spirits  in  heaven ;  I  would  have  him 
ready  to  meet  his  God !  Oh  !  most  unnatural  mother ! 
Oh,  proud,  ambitious  woman  !  will  nothing  humble  you?  " 

Myra  sat  quite  unmoved.  She  neither  spoke,  nor  wept. 
She  seemed  to  be  sustained  and  buoyed  up  above  all  that 
could  vex  or  annoy.  Hope  was  now  at  the  helm,  there- 
fore the  little  bark  will  weather  the  storm,  and  that  poor, 
stricken  young  mother  will  find  her  vessel,  wTith  herself 
and  sweet  fledgling  in  a  safe  mooring  at  last. 

"  Oh  !  "  sobbed  the  old  lady,  still  rocking  herself  fiercely, 
"  I  miss  my  child  ;  I  miss  his  bright  face,  his  mocking- 
bird voice,  and  I  miss  his  little  hands  more  than  all.'' 

Myra  smiled  quietly,  but  said  nothing. 

This  domestic  scene  w^as  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  an  old  man,  who  softly  lifts  the  latch  and  comes,  unan- 
nounced, toward  the  fire,  creeping  and  tottering  along. 
His  beard  and  hair  are  as  white  as  milk,  hanging  far 
down  on  his  breast  and  shoulders.  He  is  poorly  clad  and 
seems  to  be  cold  and  weary. 

Myra  hands  him  a  chair,  looking  pityingly  at  him ; 
then  invites  him  very  kindly  to  draw  near  to  the  fire  ; 
offers  to  take  his  cap,  which  he  declines,  speaking  in  a  low 
and  quavering  voice.  He  seems  wholly  absorbed  in  the 
comforts  of  the  little  grate,  spreading  out  his  thin,  bony 
hands  over  the  blaze. 

The  old  lady  has  left  the  room,  and  Myra  again  begins 
to  ply  her  needle,  having  fixed  her  eyes  on  her  work ;  the 
old  man  peers  keenly  from  under  his  cap  around  the 
room ;  no  corner  or  crevice  escapes  him.  He  fixes  his 
eyes  on  the  lady ;  as  she  raises  her's  from  time  to  time  his 


172  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

drop  beneath  their  soft,  mild  expression,  and  instantly 
resume  the  same  stolid,  marble-like  look. 

Finally,  he  asks  her,  with  the  real  mendicant  whine, 
for  something  to  eat,  saying  he  had  journeyed  far,  and 
had  not  yet  broken  his  fast. 

She  leaves  the  room,  and  as  she  passed  to  the  kitchen, 
murmured,  "  Poor  old  man,  I  will  divide  even  to  the  half 
that  I  have." 

She  was  gone  but  a  moment,  yet  long  enough  for  the 
money  which  Murdoch  had  placed  on  the  mantle-piece  to 
pass  from  the  shelf  to  his  pocket. 

Myra  returns,  saying  she  had  nothing  in  the  house  fit 
to  offer  him,  but  gives  him  a  piece  of  money,  telling  him 
he  must  buy  a  dinner  at  some  restaurant. 

He  thanked  her  very  humbly,  and  rose  to  depart ;  but 
suddenly  seeming  to  remember  something  he  again  seated 
himself ;  he  then  inquired  if  she  wanted  to  hire  a  servant? 

Myra  replied  she  would  like  to  get  a  little  negro  girl. 

"  All  right  then,  madam,  I  have  just  the  one  to  suit  you  ; 
but  I  ask  two  dollars  a  week.'' 

Myra  nodded  assent. 

Promising  to  send  her  that  evening,  he  thanked  her  for 
her  charity,  and  offered  his  withered  hand,  and  as  he 
seemed  to  bow  his  head  over  her's  she  saw  that  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  a  sinister  expression,  as  they  fell  on  the 
opal  ring. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  about  to  bid 
adieu  to  this  nether  world,  there  came  to  the  hovel  a  tall, 
graceful  girl,  very  much  wrapped  up,  and  closely  veiled. 
She  seemed  reserved  and  constrained,  but  Myra  was 
interested,  and  showed  her  all  the  civilities  which  the 
nature  of  the  case  permitted.  At  last  she  spoke  in  a  low, 
sweet,  tremulous  voice : 

"  I  have  called,  madam,  to  see  you  about  the  little  ser- 
vant whom  my  father  engaged  to  furnish.    I  entreat  you 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


173 


to  show  her  as  much  lenity  as  will  be  consistent  with  pru- 
dence only.  She  is  a  smart  child,  and  will  seem  docile 
and  obedient,  but  children  should  not  be  trusted  too  far. 
Mind  my  words,  lady,  and  trust  not  too  much." 

"  I  hope  she  is  good  and  faithful ;  above  all,  truthful," 
said  Myra. 

"I  will  bring  her,  madam,  and  let  you  try  her,"  said 
the  girl,  seeming  to  evade  the  query. 

She  left,  but  in  a  very  short  time  returned,  bringing 
with  her  a  little  negro  girl,  very  black,  and  with  remark- 
ably straight  hair  for  an  African.  Myra  throughout  had 
treated  the  veiled  lady  with  so  much  consideration  and 
kindness,  that  when  she  took  her  hand  to  say  adieu,  she 
carried  it  to  her  lips,  and  a  tear  fell  on  it,  dimming  that 
same  opal  ring. 


174 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    LADY    AND    THE  TOADY. 

"Nor  do  they  trust  their  tongues  alone, 
But  speak  a  language  of  their  own  ; 
Can  read  a  nod,  a  shrug,  a  look, 
Far  better  than  a  printed  book ; 
Convey  a  libel  in  a  frown, 
And  wink  a  reputation  down." 

Sweet  Mary  Green  and  her  mother  sat  in  that  young 
lady's  dressing-room.  The  former  had  been  ill  for  sev- 
eral weeks,  consequently  had  not  set  out  on  that  tour 
which  was  in  projection  at  the  opening  of  our  story. 
Myra  had  never  been  called  on  to  aid  them  in  fitting  out 
her  wardrobe ;  but  there  had  been  forwarded  to  her  from 
time  to  time,  very  substantial  proofs  of  their  generosity. 
Neither  Mary  nor  her  mother  had  called  since,  so  they 
never  knew  that  the  greater  portion  of  their  bounty  had 
not  reached  them.  Negroes  do  not  like  to  see  anything 
going  out  from  the  full  stores  of  their  owners  to  the  empty 
shelves  of  "  poor  white  folks,"  as  they  term  the  less  for- 
tunate members  of  God's  family.  Therefore,  much  that 
was  intended  to  comfort  the  interesting  members  of  that 
little  household  never  traveled  beyond  the  kitchen,  or 
the  nearest  negro  quarters. 

The  mother  and  daughter  were  just  speaking  of  that 
"poor  lady  in  disguise,"  as  Emma  always  called  Myra, 
when  she  (Emma)  entered  the  room. 

After  the  usual  salutations  were  over,  and  the  sincere 
kiss  of  friendship  had  been  given,  Emma  Calderwood 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


175 


commenced  in  her  off-hand  way:  "Ah  !  Mary,  I  have  the 
strangest  thing  to  tell  you." 

"  Have  you,  then?  "  replied  Mary,  "  I'm  glad  of  it ;  I 
have  not  heard  a  marvelous  thing  since  I  last  saw  your 
mother  and  Miss  Nancy." 

"I  do  wish  you  had  been  at  the  theater  for  the  last  few 
nights.  Our  own  beautiful  little  protege  made  his  debut, 
and  looked  ten  times  more  lovely  than  ever.  I  do  think 
there  must  have  been  a  peck  of  sovereigns  thrown  on  to 
the  stage." 

A  servant  enters  and  announces  Mrs.  Calderwood  and 
Miss  Jones. 

"  Oh  Lord  !  Now  I  am  dumb,  and  would  like  to  be 
deaf  for  the  next  half  hour,"  said  Emma,  looking  annoyed. 

"Ask  them  to  walk  up,  Euth,"  said  Mrs.  Green. 

Presently  they  were  heard  ascending  the  steps  —  Mrs. 
Calderwood  bending  under  the  weight  of  finery,  and  poor 
old  Miss  Nancy  under  her  budget  of  news.  They  seem 
to  be  in  high  glee. 

"  Ah !  said  Emma,  somebody  is  down  now\  Hear ! 
they  are  holding  a  jubilee  over  some  pretty  woman's  fall, 
some  poor  man's  failure  or  defalcation.  Some  lady's  mis- 
fortunes have  furnished  the  basis  for  this  rejoicing." 

"Oh!  you  here,  Emma?  I  thought  you  had  gone  to 
congratulate  your  friends  on  their  elevation,  that  is  to  be," 
said  Mrs.  Calderwood. 

f£  No,  mamma,  I  came  here  to  sit  with  Mary." 

After  being  seated,  seeing  that  neither  Emma,  Mary,  nor 
Mrs.  Green  asked  an  explanation,  Miss  Nancy  Jones  opens 
the  conversation  by  saying, 

"Well,  Mis  Green,  have  you  heard  the  news  to-day?" 

"  I  have  read  it,  Miss  Jones." 

"  Oh  !  but  I  guess  you  haven't  read  it  all." 

"  I  have  read  all  that  was  meant  for  the  public  eye. 
Beyond  this  I  have  no  right  or  desire  to  pry." 

"Oh  !  you  haven't?    Well,  Mis  Callerwood,  but  don't 


176 


THE    NIGH  T    W  A  T  0  H  . 


you  think  it's  very  strange  that  she  should  have  sold  her 
child  ?  her  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  " 

"  "Whom  do  you  mean.  Miss  Nancy  ?  "  asked  Emma. 

"  Why,  your  and  Miss  Green's  progidy  of  perfection, 
that  insolent  woman  down  on  Market  street.  Yes,  she 
has  actually  sold  her  little  boy  to  Gooch,  the  manager  of 

the  theater,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Calderwood,  with  a  look 

of  great  satisfaction. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  struck  in  Miss  Nancy,  "  Gooch  was  down 
there  the  other  morning,  closely  shut  uj)  the  whole  day 
with  the  milliner.  Toward  night  he  was  seen  going  home 
leading  the  poor  lad  along,  just  like  a  calf  or  a  sheep,  by 
the  shambles." 

"  He  gives  her  a  fine  price,  certainly,"  added  Mrs.  C, 
"  more  than  any  one  of  my  negro  boys  would  bring." 

"  How  much,  Madam?"  asked  Mrs.  Green,  looking  very 
coldly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  can't  descend  to  particulars ; 
but  I  was  told  it  was  a  fine  price,  and  a  very  advan- 
tageous sale." 

"  O  mamma  !  do  stop  ;  you  make  me  sick." 

"I  don't  wonder,  my  dear;  and  you  must  be  pained 
too,  to  find  yourself  so  deceived  and  put  upon  by  such 
vile  dissembling  stragglers,  and  I  don't  know  what  else 
besides." 

Emma  was  about  to  attempt  a  justification  of  her 
favorites,  when  Miss  Nancy  again  cut  in. 

"  They  do  say,  Mis  Callerwood,  that  Gooch  and  that 
milliner  are  agoing  to  get  married  right  away ;  and  then 
she's  to  take  all  the  heavy  tragedy-queen  parts;  and  the 
old  woman's  to  play  all  the  hags,  and  witches  of  Dendor, 
and  Bacbeth ;  and  the  boy's  to  do  all  the  young  villains 
and  dare-devils." 

"Ah!  now  you  are  at  fault,  Jones.  I'm  better  posted 
up  this  time,  for  a  wonder,  than  even  the  sapient  Miss 
Nancy." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


177 


"What?  what  is  it,  then,  Mis  Oalderwood ?  Now  do 
tell?" 

"Why,  mam,  she  is  —  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
without  the  slightest  shade  of  an  uncertainty  —  engaged 
to  Murdoch,  1  The  Night  Watch.'  He  almost  lives  there, 
either  inside  or  outside  of  the  house.  He  stays,  I'm  told, 
till  one  or  two  o'clock  every  night  with  the  woman  inside, 
and  till  day  against  the  lamp-post  on  the  outside.  Now 
you  know,  of  course,  Mrs.  Green,  that  the  old  woman  and 
child  must  be  fast  asleep  long  before  that.  You  must 
know  this,  mad-am." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Calderwood,  I  do  not  know.  I  am  not  so 
well  posted  up  as  yourself." 

"Well,  any  how,"  again  cut  in  poor  old  Miss  Nancy, 
"  When  he  is  forced  away  from  her,  by  his  street  duties, 
he  jest  takes  his  stand  before  her  window,  and  peeps  in 
at  her  through  the  curtain  (which  has  a  slit  torn  in  it  on 
purpose)  the  live  long  night." 

"  Oh  !  This  is  monstrous  !  It  is  unprecedented  vindic- 
tiveness." 

"  'Tis  so,  Mis  Green.  'Tis  monsrous  bad,  indeed ;  and 
to  think  that  I  belittled  myself  so  much  as  to  ask  her  to 
quilt  me  a  skuirt." 

"And  that  foolish  child  there,  wanted  to  give  her  all 
those  fine  fabrics  of  hers  to  have  ruined,  and  spotted  over 
with  salt  water  from  those  soft,  deceptious-looking  eyes. 
I  wonder,  Mrs.  Green,  if  it  will  get  out  to  our  injury,  that 
we  entered  that  den  of  vice  and  poverty?"  asked  Mrs. 
Calderwood. 

"And  do  you  think,  Mis  Green,  'twill  blemish  my 
reputation,  if  it  gets  to  be  known  that  I  went  in  there  to 
ask  her  to  "  

"Which  she  rejected  with  such  scorn,"  said  Emma, 
laughing  heartily.  "  Oh !  she  would  not  quilt  that  skirt. 
How  impertinent  ?  " 

"Shut  up,  Miss  Purtness,  I'm  not  a  talking  to  you. 


178 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Do  you,  mam,"  again  turning  to  Mrs.  Green  with  an  inno- 
cent look  of  inquiry. 

"  Oh  no  !  I  think  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  have  no 
idea  that  either  of  you  ladies  can  be  worsted  by  this 
unfortunate  stranger." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  not.  We  are  too  well  established,"  said 
Mrs.  Calderwood. 

"  Doubtless  in  some  things,  to  be  hurt,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Green. 

"  Mis  Callerwood,  they  do  say  that  Murray  and  Ger- 
trude Lindsay  are  agoing  to  be  married  next  week." 

"  You  don't  say  so,  Jones  ?    Oh,  it  can't  be  true  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  can  though.    I  tell  you  they  do  say  so." 

"  Why,  Jones,  what  did  Ann  tell  Moggy  Ann  ?  Didn't 
she  say  it  was  all  off?  " 

"  Oh,  but  Ann  didn't  prick  her  ears  well,  that  time.  It 
was  all  made  up  that  same  night,  and  the  day  was  fixed 
then.  Gertrude  goes  every  day  now,  to  see  the  'young 
old  lady,'  and  they  are  as  thick  as  peas  in  a  pod.  The 
old  woman  loves  the  girl,  but  Murray  loves  the  money." 

"How  did  you  learn  all  these  private  matters?"  asked 
Mrs.  Green,  coldly. 

"  Never  mind,  I've  got  a  little  bird  that  tells  me  every- 
thing." 

"Is  it  a  white,  black,  or  yellow  bird  ?  "  asked  Emma, 
with  a  merry  look. 

Miss  Nancy  again  scowled,  and  looking  at  the  girl,  said 
between  her  clenched  teeth — u  Insolent,  hateful  thing." 

"But  is  this  so,"  inquired  Mrs.  Calderwood.  "Have 
you  heard  of  it,  Mrs.  Green?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  know  they  are  to  be  married,  but  not 
so  soon." 

They  then  left;  and  in  the  course  of  the  morning 
made  many  calls,  repeating  everywhere  those  slanders. 

One  would  think,  that  this  was  a  sorry  and  depraved 
condition  of  society,  when  such  persons  as  these  are 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


179 


received  on  familiar  footing  into  the  first  families  in  the 
city.  Yet  it  is  not  more  strange  than  true.  You  must 
know,  dear  reader,  that  Mrs.  Calderwood  is  wealthy,  gives 
big  dinners,  and  grand  parties ;  is  besides,  related  to 
the  present  Governor.  Miss  Nancy  Jones  is  her  "  prime 
minister."  Gossip,  eaves-dropper  and  toady,  and  general 
spy,  as  she  is  well  known  to  be,  she  is  still  received  and 
even  welcomed  almost  everywhere.  Our  neighbors  are 
very  fond  of  knowing  each  other's  business  ;  above  all, 
their  family  secrets.  Consequently  those  two  ladies  are 
courted  by  all. 

Their  last  visit  is  made  to  the  mansion  of  Col.  Murray. 
They  are  ushered  into  the  drawing-room  without  delay. 
This  is  one  of  the  old  lady's  regular  reception-days.  She 
has  only  three  a  week.  Miss  Lindsay,  Mrs.  Murray,  and 
the  Colonel  are  at  home.  Gertrude  is  seated  at  the  piano, 
and  is  looking  magnificent.  Truly,  happiness  is  a  great 
beautifier  of  the  human  face !  The  mother  is  arrayed  in 
all  her  regality  —  purple,  velvet,  Mechlin  lace,  and  jewels. 
The  son  is  dressed  with  severe  simplicity,  and  is  silent  and 
moody. 

On  the  entrance  of  the  ladies,  Miss  Lindsay  had  risen 
from  the  instrument.  She  seats  herself  apart  from  the 
company,  and  Murray,  to  shield  himself  from  the  obtru- 
siveness  of  the  visitors,  takes  a  chair  by  her  side,  and 
commences  a  conversation  in  a  low  tone. 

Gertrude  was  greatly  delighted.  But  now  he  is  fast 
sinking  into  abstraction.  At  last  he  seems  to  have  for- 
gotten her  —  her,  his  betrothed.  Her  presence  brings  no 
beam  of  sunshine  to  his  frozen  heart. 

Poor  Murray  !  he  had  some  time  since  recovered  from 
his  brief  intoxication  ;  had  waked  up,  and  could  dream 
no  more.  But  with  the  same  sort  of  highly-wrought  res- 
olution which  incites  a  man  to  meet  danger  or  death, 
for  honor  or  conscience-sake,  he  was  determined  to  go 
through  with  the  marriage  ;  yet  there  was  a  feeling  of 


180 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


entere  self-immolation.  He  might  be  wretched,  or  he 
might  die,,  but  he  would  not  with  premeditation  sully  his 
honor  or  forfeit  his  word. 

In  the  meantime,  these  two  familiar  acquaintances  had 
regularly  recounted  to  Mrs.  Murray  all  that  had  been 
repeated  at  Mrs.  Green's,  which  had  been  detailed  with 
many  additions  at  some  four  or  five  other  places.  Now  it 
had  swelled  into  a  mighty  and  marvelous  tale,  strange 
and  ugly,  as  Miss  Nancy  said.  Murray,  during  his  seem- 
ing revery,  had  been  listening  fixedly.  Not  a  word  had 
escaped  him.  But  when  they  spoke  of  Murdoch  as  a  lover, 
nay,  as  the  affianced  of  the  incomparable  Myra,  he  started 
to  his  feet  so  suddenly  as  to  frighten  Gertrude.  On  pass- 
ing, he  trod  on  her  foot,  which  made  her  scream  out. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  he,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room.  A 
sign  passed  from  one  lady  to  the  other. 

When  these  two  harpies  had  left,  Miss  Lindsay  drew 
near  to  Mrs.  Murray,  taking  a  low  seat  at  her  feet,  and 
looking  distractedly  around  her,  says, 

"  Mother,  O  mother,  pity  me  !  " 

She  oftentimes  accosted  her  by  that  endearing  name. 
In  fact,  the  unwavering  friendship  which  these  two  con- 
genial natures  felt  for  each  other,  that  intimacy  which  had 
withstood  so  many  rude  shocks,  was  the  one  redeeming 
trait  in  their  lives — "  The  one  virtue  linked  with  a  thousand 
faults."  Gertrude  had  grown  up  from  infancy  under  the 
eye  of  Mrs.  Murray,  and  was  in  some  sort  her  foster  child. 

"  Now  you  see,  mother,  how  it  is?  I  told  you  so. 
When  I  read  that  anonymous  letter,  I  felt  my  doom  was 
fixed.  You  tried  to  reassure  me,  and  you  did  caress  away 
my  doubts  for  the  time,  but  they  have  returned  with 
ten-fold  intensity.  I  feel  as  I  imagine  a  convict  does 
who  is  subject  to  the  fearful  alternations  of  hope  and 
despair.  I  will  not  be  trifled  with  much  longer.  My 
father  does  not  know  how  I  have  been  treated.  He 
does  not  surmise  the  base  part  I  have  played  in  this  court- 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


181 


ship.  He  looks  upon  Conrad  Murray  as  one  full  of  eccen- 
tricities, but  as  the  most  chivalric  of  men,  the  most 
impassioned  of  lovers.  But,  mother,  this  thing  must  end. 
I  will  break  this  chain  which  has  been  no  chain  till  now, 
or  so  wreathed  with  roses  that  I  felt  it  not.  Now  the 
thorns  begin  to  prick  me,  and  the  links  chafe.  I  shall 
have  this  chain  either  riveted  or  broken  soon.  If  broken, 
mother,  your  foster  daughter  will  not  hang  herself  with  a 
blue  or  pink  silk  scarf,  nor  jump  out  of  a  third  story  win- 
dow; neither  will  she,  like  Juliet,  forestall  him  in  the 
friendly  cup,  nor  even  elope  with  Mr.  Gaines  ;  but  she 
will  make  Charles  Conrad  Murray  rue  the  hour  that  he 
ever  saw  the  light  of  day,  or  Gertrude  Lindsay." 

"  Oh!  for  God's  sake!  Gertrude  stop;  you  make  me 
shudder.  You  frighten  even  me,  who  never  did  quail  but 
once  in  my  life,  and  that  was  under  his  eye.  That  man's 
eye  is  as  keen  as  a  two-edged  sword.  But  enough.  I 
know,  my  dear,  although  he  is  my  son,  that  there  is  some- 
thing wrong  about  the  boy  ;  something  strange  and  fan- 
tastical, and  then  again  fearful.  But  just  wait,  my  child  ; 
such  a  looking  woman  as  you  are,  Gertrude,  beautiful  and 
so  voluptuous,  must  rivet  the  chain,  though  it  be  forged  by 
circumstances  and  expediency.  /  know,  Gerty,  I  am  a 
judge  of  these  things ;  and  besides,  I  know  too  much 
about  his  passionate,  fierce  nature  when  aroused,  to  doubt 
of  the  result ;  and  don't  you  doubt  either,  my  dear  child, 
but  trust  to  me.  I  rarely  fail  in  my  diplomacy.  I  always 
carry  my  point,  either  by  foul  means  or  fair." 

The  beauty  seemed  reassured.  As  she  passed  through 
the  hall,  she  heard  his  measured  step  in  the  parlor.  He 
did  not  offer  to  attend  her,  although  Tivvy  had  been  sent 
to  inform  him  that  such  was  his  mother's  wishes. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,  Tivvy  ;  I  don't  know  what  you  are  say- 
ing. I  will  listen  to  you  some  other  time."  The  girl 
stood  there  staring  at  him  in  amazement ;  he  was  as  pale 
as  death.    "  Go  away,  Tivvy,  that's  a  good  girl." 


182 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  What  shall  I  tell  her  ?  "  said  Tivvy. 

"  Anything  you  please,  so  that  you  leave  me  alone." 

When  Tivvy  vanished,  he  locked  the  door  and  resumed 
his  march,  talking  the  while. 

"  Why  this  wild  emotion  ?  What  is  the  woman  to  me  ? 
Nothing,  other  than  she  resembles  my  lost  Marianna.  I 
do  not  know  much  of  this  poor  lady,  but  every  one  who 
does  know  her  says  she  is  an  angel.  Why  should  I  thus 
shudder  at  the  good  Murdoch  mating  with  this  gentle 
dove?  I  am  myself  to  be  married  soon,  and  my  own 
marriage  will  be  as  ill-assorted  as  theirs.  That  child,  too, 
is  like  my  lost  bride.  Poor  Marianna !  cut  off  in  the 
flower  of  thy  youth,  amid  the  glory  of  such  heavenly 
beauty."  He  stops  and  placing  his  finger  on  his  lip, 
seems  to  reflect.  "  Would  to  heaven  I  could  break  these 
two  untoward  marriages  ;  would  that  I  knew  the  secret 
which  envelops  her  life.  O  that  I  could  clear  up  those  dark 
mysteries.  What  brings  that  old  Jew  peddler  here  ?  or 
why  does  he  thus  dog  my  steps?  Thrice  have  I  turned, 
intending  to  chastise  his  impertinence,  old  as  he  is  ;  but 
he  seemed  to  fade  from  my  sight  as  if  the  earth  had 
opened  and  swallowed  him  up.  Ah !  how  that  woman's 
image  haunts  me  !  Ha  !  now  I  remember  one  of  the  har- 
pies spoke  of  her  engagement  to  Gooch,  and  that  she  was 
to  become  a  stock  actress.  I  know  this  to  be  false,  so  may 
be  all  else  which  their  vituperative  tongues  uttered.  I 
know  Gooch ;  he  is  a  gentleman,  although  connected  with 
a  theater,  and  never  would  jeopardize  the  reputation  of 
an  unprotected  woman.  I  heard  him  speak  of  his  inter- 
view, whicE  did  not  last  more  than  one  hour.  I  also 
heard  him  laud  her  modesty  and  good  sense. 

A  rap  at  the  door,  and  the  impatient  voice  of  his  mother 
demands  instant  admittance.  After  looking  at  him  very 
keenly,  she  said,  "  My  son,  Gertrude  wishes  to  attend  the 
theater  to-night." 

"  Well,  madam  :  I  have  no  objection." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH . 


183 


"  Should  you  not  attend  her,  sir? — your  affianced  wife, 
Charles  Conrad  Murray!"  She  always  gave  the  full 
name  when  she  wished  to  be  impressive. 

"  I  am  ready,  madam.  Do  you  think  she  desires  my 
attendance?  " 

"  Of  course,  she  expects  it." 

u  If  you  wish  it,  my  mother,  then  I  will  call  for  her. 
But  where  is  Mr.  Gaines  ?  I  do  not  remember  ever  to 
have  seen  her  there  without  him.  If  he  does  not  go  with 
her,  he  joins  her  immediately  after ;  and  they  are  fre- 
quently so  absorbed,  that  they  do  not  see  or  hear  any  of 
the  play." 

"  Now,  Charlie,  you  are  jealous.  Well,  that  is  a  first 
rate  symptom." 

"  Not  so  :  would  to  heaven  I  could  feel  or  care  enough 
to  be  made  jealous." 

The  old  lady  frowned,  and  her  white,  even,  pretty 
teeth  worked  fiercely  up  and  down — and  so  she  swept 
from  the  room. 


184 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE    MISER'S  HOME. 

"  As  pale  and  wan  as  ashes  was  his  look, 
His  body  lean  and  meager  as  a  rake, 
And  skin  all  withered  like  a  dried  rook ; 
Then,  too,  as  cold  and  dreary  as  a  snake, 
That  seemed  to  tremble  evermore  and  quake." 

When  Miss  Lindsay  left  Mrs.  Murray,  to  return  home 
as  she  stated,  after  going  in  that  direction  for  several 
squares,  she  struck  into  an  unfrequented  street,  or  alley ; 
this  led  to  a  dismal,  dirty  court,  which  was  that  portion 
of  the  city  occupied  by  the  Jews  for  dwellings,  or  rather 
stopping  places  (for  they  do  not  dwell),  and  is  called  the 
Jews'  Quarter.  She  had  now  arrived  at  the  place  she 
sought  —  a  gloomy,  dilapidated  pile  of  old  brick  walls, 
black  with  age,  and  green  with  mold.  She  entered  a 
dark  alley,  and  passing  into  a  narrow  back  yard,  pushed 
open  a  low  door,  and  bending  her  haughty  head,  com- 
menced ascending  a  spiral  staircase.  Up,  up,  up,  she 
mounted,  higher  and  higher,  until  she  felt  assured  she 
must  be  near  the  roof.  The  next  step  brought  her  to  a 
platform,  or  landing.  On  reaching  this  she  was  com- 
pelled to  stop  for  breath.  In  the  intensity  of  her  feel- 
ings, amid  that  tornado  of  raging  passions — love,  hatred, 
and  jealousy  —  she  had  forgotten  everything  but  the  object 
in  view.  Having  rushed  along  the  street  with  the 
velocity  of  a  steam  engine,  then  mounting  that  flight  of 
steps,  which,  like  Jacob's  ladder,  seemed  to  reach  to  the 
heavens,  she  was  compelled  to  lean  against  the  wall  for 


T H E    NIGH  T    W ATCH 


185 


several  moments  before  she  could  give  the  signal,  or  low 
double  rap. 

That  platform  was  so  constructed  by  some  cunning 
device,  that  when  the  foot  touched  the  last  board,  a  little 
bell  tinkled  over  the  head  of  the  miser  ;  consequently  he 
was  never  taken  by  surprise.  The  fact,  too,  that  no  one 
could  ascend  those  winding  steps  without  stopping  to  rest 
on  the  threshhold,  was  another  thing  in  his  favor.  The 
old  wretch  was  indulging  (which  he  sometimes  did  after 
an  unusual  success  in  villany)  in  a  bowl  of  rich  stewed 
oysters,  and  fine  white  bread,  washed  down  by  the  best 
wine.  Leah  had  prepared  this  sumptuous  recast,  and 
was  standing  by  his  side  while  he  ate. 

When  that  little  bell  tinkled,  he  exclaimed,  "Here 
shild,  take  the  tings  away.  Somebody  wants  to  speak 
mit  thy  fadder  on  business.    Let  every  ting  be  hid  away." 

As  if  by  magic,  the  fragments,  dirty  dishes,  and  bottle 
vanished  —  then,  when  the  rap  was  given,  a  little,  low, 
mean  chuckle  preceded  the  feeble,  quavering  u  come  in  ;  " 
and  Leah,  as  once  before,  became  part  and  parcel  of  a 
quantity  of  old  clothes  on  the  wall.  When  Miss  Lindsay 
entered,  she  found  the  Jew  seated  on  the  same  old  hair 
trunk.  He  had  assumed  even  a  more  lean,  lank,  cold  and 
hungry  look  than  ever. 

"  Well,  Mordecai,  I've  come  again,  you  see."  This  was 
said  to  the  low,  cringing  reverence,  that  the  miser  made 
to  the  wealthy  aristocrat. 

"Yes,  mine  lady,  I  sees." 

"  Then  sit  down  and  listen  to  me.  I  have  such  need  of 
your  services  as  will  call  forth  all  your  energy  and  shrewd- 
ness ;  and  for  which,  if  you  serve  me  well,  and  succeed,  I 
will  pour  more  gold  into  your  old  trunk  there,  than 
any  one  ever  did  before,  or  ever  will  again." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  mine  lady,  thou  is  mishtaken  :  old  Mordecai, 
the  Jew,  is  so  poor  that  he  can't  buy  new  cloth  to  make 
his  coat,  and  he  is  always  half  starved." 
16 


186 


THE     N I G H  T    W A  T  C  H . 


u  Never  tell  me  that,  Faggot.  I  know  that  you  and  1 
with  our  combined  strength,  could  not  move  that  strong- 
box one  inch." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  thou  is  mishtaken,  mine  lady  ;  I  will  show 
thee  that  thou  is  mishtaken."  And  then  he  proceeded  to 
unlock  the  trunk,  which,  much  to  the  surprise  of  Ger- 
trude, contained  some  articles  of  clothing,  that  seemed 
to  be  only  a  little  bit  cleaner  than  the  rags  he  wore. 

"  See !  see  !  lady,"  says  he,  as  he  turns  them  over  for 
her  inspection,  "  dis  is  all." 

"  Well,  Jew,  I  have  done  you  injustice,  as  many  another 
has,  no  doubt ;  and  as  many  more  will.  But  let  that  pass  ; 
I  crave  your  pardon,  Mordecai." 

"Oh!  mine  lady!"  and  he  bows  himself  down  in  the 
most  servile,  abject  manner. 

"  I  will  say,  then,  that  I  will  place  the  largest  amount, 
or  the  first  contribution,  if  you  will,  in  that  trunk." 

"  Go  on,  lady,  old  Faggot  is  ready." 

"  Now,  Mordecai,  you  know  that  pretty  milliner  down 
Market  street,  who  is  turning  the  town  upside  down,  and 
all  the  men's  heads  with  it.  She  seems  to  be  in  every- 
body's way.  She  is  in  mine,  and  I  want  her  put  out 
of  it.  She  must  be  removed  —  safely  stored  away, 
Faggot,"  and  the  words  came  hissingly  from  her  pretty 
mouth. 

"  Oh  !  now,  mine  lady,  how  can  dat  poor  woman  stand 
in  thy  way  ?  the  comely  and  high  maiden,  mit  so  much 
gold  monish." 

"  A  truce  with  your  fulsome  flattery.  If  you  do  not 
listen  and  come  to  terms  at  once,  I  will  engage  old  Nathan, 
the  other  Jew  dog,  your  next  door  neighbor.  I  chose  you, 
Faggot,  thinking  there  are  degrees  of  wickedness  even  in 
hell,  and  of  all  the  devils  I  wanted  the  biggest." 

"  Oh  !  he  !  he  !  he  !  "  chuckled  the  Jew,  and  he  grinned ; 
showing  little  white,  pointed  teeth,  such  as  we  see  in  the 
mouth  of  a  jackall. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


187 


"  Go  on,  lady,  I'll  do  it,  dat's  all  I  is  got  to  say.  I'll 
do  it.    I'll  do  it." 

"  Next  week  I  have  promised  to  marry  Conrad  Mur- 
ray ;  but  some  mysterious  circumstances  have  transpired, 
which  make  me  think  this  low-born,  obscure,  and,  I  am 
told,  suspicious  person  will  try  to  interrupt  the  marriage. 
Now,  Mordecai,  I  confess,  with  shame  and  confusion  of 
face,  that  I  fear  this  creature  more  than  all  the  belles  and 
beauties  of  the  city." 

"  Oh  yes  !  she  is  comely  —  bright  as  de  sun,  and  beau- 
tiful as  was  Fadder  Jacob's  wrife,  Rachel — de  comely 
Rachel !  " 

The  lady  scowled,  and  the  Jew  showed  his  jackall  teeth 
again. 

"  Is  she  so  ?  Then  so  much  greater  the  necessity  to 
have  her  removed." 

"What  does  thou  propose,  my  lady  ?  "  said  Faggot. 

"  I  propose  nothing  to  such  a  fiendish  machinator  as 
yourself.  I  thought  the  devil  abounded  in  devices.  I  did 
think  he  was  never  at  a  loss  for  ways  and  means  to  work 
ruin  and  devastation  on  the  human  family.  When  I  find 
that  hovel  vacant  and  Murdoch  and  his  hounds  set  on  the 
wrong  trail,  and  she  is  no  more  forthcoming,  I  will  pay 
you  five  hundred  dollars." 

His  little  red-hot  coals  of  fire  gleamed  out  again  from 
under  his  shaggy,  gray  eye-brows. 

"Write  it,  mine  lady,"  said  he,  producing  the  same  lit- 
tle ink-horn  and  the  stump  of  a  pen;  and  taking  a  small 
piece  of  paper,  which  he  again  divided,  hands  her  the 
scrap. 

Then  that  smart,  scheming  woman,  had  the  imprudence 
to  write  her  promissory  note  for  that  amount,  with  her 
true  signature  affixed. 

The  door  opened,  a  little  negro  girl  entered,  and  came 
toward  them. 

"  Who  is  this,  sir?  "  shouted  the  beauty.    M  HowT  dare 


188 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


you,  base  traitor,  to  allow  any  one  to  come  upon  me  here 
in  your  vile  den?"  She  sprung  to  her  feet  and  seized 
the  old  man  by  the  collar.  "  Wretch  !  dog  !  I  will  shake 
the  soul  out  of  your  body  !"  and  she  jerked  him  violently 
from  his  seat. 

"  Oh  !  Fadder  Abraham,  and  Jacob,  and  de  God  of  dem 
all,  save  me  !  Lady,  it  is  only  my  own  little  slave.  Fear 
nothing  ;  she  does  not  understand,  nor  speak  any  language 
but  the  ancient  one  of  my  peoplesh."  Then  he  turned  to 
the  child,  and  they  conversed  in  an  earnest  tone,  the  girl 
making  gestures  of  disgust  and  disapprobation  to  what 
the  old  man  said. 

Mordecai  turns  to  the  beauty.  u  You  may  depend  on 
me.  When  to-morrow's  sun  shall  rise,  he  wTill  shine  on 
dat  empty  hovel  —  on  dat  cold  grate.  Den  two,  tree 
days  more,  and  old  Faggot  will  come  to  de  palace  of  de 
'queen  of  beauty,'  to  git  his  monish." 

"  'Tis  well !  "  said  the  lady. 

Just  then  there  was  a  slight  noise  behind  those  old 
clothes  on  the  wall.  The  lady  again  started  to  her  feet. 
" What  noise  was  that?  Infidel  dog!  false  Israelite! 
would  you  entrap  and  betray  your  benefactress?  " 

"  Oh  !  Fadder  Abraham  !  it  is  nothing,  only  but  rats." 

But  Gertrude  seemed  greatly  disturbed,  and  proceeded 
to  examine  every  part  of  the  wall — peeping  and  prying 
curiously  about.  When  she  came  to  those  old  clothes, 
she  took  every  piece  down  and  scrutinized  the  panels. 
Faggot  and  the  child  had  watched  her  with  the  most 
nervous  anxiety ;  but  when  she  turned  to  them  again, 
they  were  both  unconcernedly  looking  into  the  fire. 

When  the  lady  had  left,  Faggot  and  the  little  negro 
talked  for  some  time.  Then  he  dismissed  her,  after 
which  he  run  his  hand  under  the  old  clothes  on  the  wall, 
and  a  noise  was  heard  like  the  click  of  a  spring.  He  now 
soliloquized,  in  a  low,  guttural  voice,  "  I  is  myself  only 
smart  enough  to  head  dat  Leah.    It  takes  old  Faggot, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


189 


mit  all  his  cunning,  to  overtake  dat  shild.  I  is  got  her 
fast  shut  up  in  her  cage  now,  tank  Got !  Dat  wash  one 
clever  invention,  dat  counter-spring." 

He  busied  himself  in  taking  from  their  several  hiding 
places  certain  garments  of  better  quality  and  condition 
than  those  he  wore ;  and  while  he  proceeded  to  array 
himself  in  them,  he  muttered  all  the  time  :  "  De  girl  is 
goot  —  I  like  her  very  much ;  but  she  is  not  true  to  my 
peoplesh  like  Hagar  is.  So  oftentimes  she  thwarts  my 
plans  of  vengeance  against  de  proud  Nazarene.  O 
Leah  !  if  thou  was  true  to  me  and  mine  peoplesh,  when 
my  vengeance  is  satisfied,  I  would  make  de  like  unto  de 
Queen  o'  Sheba.  But  Fadder  Abraham,  de  girl  is  merci- 
ful to  dem  Christian  dogs  !  Yet  I  is  up  to  her  dish  time  ; 
she  is  fast  enough." 

Then  he  touches  another  spring  in  a  panel,  differing 
in  nothing  from  the  surrounding  blank  walls.  This  dis- 
covers a  large  mirror,  which  reflects  the  image  of  the 
Jew  as  he  looked  when  he  forced  poor  Myra,  as  her  land- 
lord, to  place  that  sign  over  her  door.  He  is  himself  now, 
and  presents  the  appearance  of  a  brisk,  shrewd  little 
man  —  not  much  beyond  fifty  or  fifty-five  years  of  age. 
Those  ugly,  shaggy  brows  have  disappeared  ;  those  milk- 
white  locks  and  flowing  beard,  have  given  place  to  a 
naked,  but  wrinkled,  dried -looking  face,  and  close-cropped, 
iron-gray  hair.  All,  everything  is  changed,  but  the  little 
gleaming  eyes  and  the  jackall  teeth.  He  wraps  himself 
up  in  his  ample  shawl,  and  putting  on  his  cap,  views  him- 
self again  in  the  mirror,  and,  with  a  low  chuckle  of  satis- 
faction, thus  soliloquizes  again: 

"  Oh,  oh  !  the  woman  is  very  beautiful ;  dat  j^azarene 
is  comely.  I  feel  someting  stirring  in  dis  old  heart  dat 
has  been  dead,  dead,  dead  so  long,"  tapping  his  side  with 
his  fingers.  "  O  Eachel !  my  beloved  wife,  I  owes  to 
thy  memory  a  hecatomb  of  dem  vile  Nazarene.    But  1 


190  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

am  paying  dem  off,  I  am  giving  dem  beds  of  thorns  to 
sleep  on,  and  tears  to  water  dere  couch." 

He  views  himself  again  from  head  to  foot,  and  the  lit- 
tle, sharp  teeth  shine  out  from  under  the  corrugated  lips, 
as  he  exclaims,  u  Dat  will  do ;  dat  will  do.  De  Gentile 
woman  is  very  comely."  Then  restoring  the  mystic  panel, 
he  left. 

By  another  intricate  stairway  he  takes  his  course  to  a 
store,  comprising  articles  of  every  description  —  new  and 
second-hand  clothing,  furniture  also  of  the  finest  mahog- 
any and  rosewood,  down  to  the  plainest  pine  boards.  On 
entering  the  front  store  he  finds  a  clerk  engaged  in  the 
sale  of  a  renovated  coat,  which  the  young  man  (a  small, 
thin,  but  good-looking  youth)  declared  had  come  that 
morning  from  the  hands  of  the  tailor. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Nathan,"  said  young  Isaacs,  and 
then  they  exchanged  a  few  words  in  their  own  tongue. 

Now  Mr.  Nathan,  the  Jew  clothing  merchant,  emerged 
into  that  dismal  court  from  his  own  store.  He  walked 
rapidly  along  through  all  its  devious  windings,  passing 
through  many  a  private  alley  until  he  reached  Market 
street.  There  many  other  Jews  are  passing  and  repass- 
ing pursuing  their  several  avocations,  but  all  tending  to 
the  same  end,  to  overreach  and  swindle  the  Christian. 
There  is  many  a  smile  of  recognition,  many  a  hat  touched 
and  head  bowed  in  lowly  reverence  to  the  wealthy  cloth- 
ing merchant. 

He  now  arrives  at  the  hovel,  having  settled  in  his  mind 
to  extort  the  last  penny  of  the  rent  before  his  diabolical 
purpose  of  suppressing  the  beautiful  proprietor  shall  have 
put  it  beyond  his  power  to  do  so.  He  knocks  ;  a  very 
soft  and  musical  voice  invites  him  to  enter.  Myra  is 
seated  as  usual  in  her  low  chair,  and  is  writing  on  her 
lap.  She  puts  by  the  old  port-folio,  and  with  innate  good 
breeding,  rises  and  offers  him  a  chair.    Oh  !  how  beauti- 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


191 


ful  she  looks  then  !  so  gentle  and  winning  was  her  smile ; 
so  pellucid  those  deep,  earnest,  blue  eyes.  He  sits  there 
silently  gazing  at  her. 

Does  the  man  feel  softened?  Does  the  Jew  relent? 
While  he,  with  those  little  fiery  eyes  devours  that  match- 
less form  and  face,  does  he  relent  ?  that  old  Jew.  He 
may,  for  he  is  a  creature  of  like  passions  with  ourselves. 
The  Jew  may  feel,  may  love.  The  man,  however  savage, 
may  be  tamed  and  won  from  his  brutality,  but  the  miser 
never.  For  one  moment  the  man,  the  Jew  even,  has  the 
ascendency,  and  the  u  still,  small  voice  "  begins  to  whis- 
per and  is  heard.  He  raises  his  little  blood-shot  eyes  to 
her  innocent  face,  her  heavenly  countenance,  and  exclaims, 
mentally, 

"  No,  I  will  not  harm  her.  Wretch  as  I  am,  I  will  not, 
I  can  not  imbrue  my  hands  in  her  blood.  May  the  God 
of  Jacob  render  this  arm  powerless  to  hurt  thee,  thou 
angel  woman  !  "  In  the  intensity  of  this  new  feeling,  for 
one  instant  he  had  lost  sight  of  himself,  and  stretching 
out  his  arm  at  that  point  wThere  he  makes  the  solemn 
adjuration,  cries  out,  "  I  can  not;  Oh  no,  I  can  not !  " 

The  sudden  start,  the  evident  recoil,  and  frightened 
look  of  his  victim  disenchanted  him.  And  now  avarice 
asserts  his  dominion.  The  Miser  whispers,  "  Jew,  thou  art 
a  fool !  Dost  thou  suffer  a  pretty  face  to  blind  thee  to  the 
abject  condition  of  thy  hard-pressed  people?  —  thy  des- 
pised race?"    Avarice  gibbers  in  the  ear  of  the  man, 

u  Dotard !  dost  thou  not  see  that  she  turns  loathingly 
away  from  thee,  shuddering  at  thy  wrinkled  face  and  thy 
unseemly,  aged  form  ?  Bethink  thyself,  man,  Jew,  and  do 
thine  errand,"  and  he  clutched  between  his  fingers,  which 
he  had  during  his  agitation  thrust  violently  into  his  pocket, 
the  two  promissory  notes. 

Myra  turned  deadly  pale,  and  rising,  w^ould  have  left 
the  room ;  but  feeling  the  necessity  upon  her  to  command 
herself,  she  sat  down,  though  further  away  from  him. 


192 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


kC  Sir,"  said  she,  in  a  timid  voice,  "  is  your  business  with 
me  or  with  my  mother,  this  afternoon  ?  " 

The  miser  grinned  ;  a  grin  in  which  the  hyena,  teeth 
and  all,  was  disclosed.  He  presented  a  paper,  and  while 
she  read  it,  he  watched  her  keenly.  Much  to  his  surprise, 
and  maybe  regret  too,  for  another  passion  was  now  war- 
ring with  avarice  in  that  old  breast,  when  she  had  finished 
it  she  rose,  and  inclining  her  head  in  the  most  conde- 
scending manner  to  him,  said,  "  I  believe  it  is  Mr.  Nathan, 
our  landlord?  You  will  pardon,  sir,  this  recreancy  of 
memory.  I  had  quite  forgetten  you."  She  went  to  her 
trunk,  taking  from  it  a  purse,  and  counted  oat  the  amount, 
and  hands  it  to  him. 

Avarice  has  resumed  his  despotic  sway  in  that  poor,  old 
crime-stained  heart.  His  eyes  are  riveted  on  the  purse, 
which  she  still  holds  in  her  hand,  and  he  counts  and 
recounts  the  little  sum.  After  which,  with  a  growl,  says, 
"  There  is  sixpence  coming  to  me."  She  hands  him  a 
shilling;  then  he  with  many  regrets  says,  "I  has  no 
change,  mine  lady." 

u  Never  mind,  sir,  I  do  not  care  for  it."  Myra  says  this 
condescendingly ;  for  now  that  hope  has  revived  and  for- 
tune does  not  frown  so  loweringly,  she  was  beginning 
involuntarily  to  look  and  act  the  gracious  princess. 

The  Jew  puts  on  his  cap,  and  coming  up  to  her,  pre- 
sents his  skinny  hand  to  take  leave,  when  she,  with  an 
irrepressible  shudder,  steps  back  and  bows,  saying,  "  Good 
afternoon,  sir." 

Poor  lady!  That  last  act,  bo  natural  to  thy  refined  and 
delicate  nature,  has  steeled  that  man's  heart  against  thee! 
Thou  couldst  not  touch  those  hard,  griping  fingers  —  that 
niggard,  miserly  hand.  But  thou  didst  shake  hands  with 
the  old  pauper,  who  was  filthy  and  disgusting.  Thy  gen- 
tle hand  and  heart  are  oj^en  to  the  calls  of  charity ;  but 
closed  to  the  demands  of  avarice. 

Myra  sat  for  some  time  after  the  miser  had  left,  lost  in 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


193 


thought.  The  man's  look,  his  strange  agitation,  were  all 
enigmas  to  her.  She  did  not,  for  one  instant,  think  that 
the  little  dried  up,  wizen-faced  wretch  would  dare  to  raise 
his  eyes  to  her  even  to  admire. 

Looking  up  suddenly,  she  met  the  gaze  of  the  little 
negro  fixed  upon  her.  Oh  !  that  look  !  in  it  was  the  con- 
centration of  malice.  As  quick  as  thought  it  vanished, 
and  was  succeeded  by  the  most  gentle,  subdued,  and 
obliging  expression. 

17 


194 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    COURTEOUS  MANAGER. 

"A  seasoned  friend  not  tainted  with  design, 
Who  made  those  words  grow  useless  —  thine  and  mine." 

Many  weeks  had  now  elapsed  since  the  little  Clarence 
had  gone  to  take  his  chance  with  Mr.  Gooch's  Stock  Com- 
pany. Still  the  public  clamored  for  the  beautiful  child, 
Master  Clarens.  Night  after  night,  he  had  played  his 
part  without  fault  or  failure.  The  contract  between  the 
mother  and  manager  had  been  complied  with  to  the  letter; 
and  Myra  saw  that  her  boy  was  improving  in  strength  of 
mind  and  body,  without  losing  that  sweet  simplicity  and 
innocency  peculiar  to  all  childhood,  but  more  especially  to 
Clarence.  Mr.  Gooch  had  often  renewed  his  solicitations 
to  be  permitted  to  call  on  the  ladies ;  but  Myra,  true  to 
herself,  always  declined,  with  due  courtesy;  yet  with  a 
firmness  which  presently  convinced  him  that  her  scruples 
were  purely  prudential,  and  he  learned  to  respect  her  the 
more. 

The  patrons  of  that  theater  were  extremely  anxious 
that  Clarens  should  now  be  brought  out  in  some  piece  in 
which  all  his  powrers  should  be  put  into  requisition.  Here- 
tofore he  had,  through  the  tenderness  of  Gooch's  big 
heart,  been  kept  pretty  much  in  dumb  shows,  and 
pageants,  and  such  other  characters  as  would  show  off 
the  personal  attractions  of  the  child,  without  taxing  his 
mind  or  memory  overmuch,  for  Gooch  was  chary  of  that 
boy's  strength. 

By  particular  request,  they  have  consented  to  produce 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


195 


William  Tell,  in  order  to  show  Clarens  off  in  Albert ;  and 
now  he  is  to  appear  in  that  interesting  character,  having 
had  careful  instruction  and  training  from  Gooch  himself. 
On  this  morning,  when  the  child  arrives  at  the  office  of 
that  gentleman,  he  hands  him  a  sealed  packet,  desiring 
him  as  soon  as  he  had  delivered  it,  to  hasten  back,  as  the 
last  rehearsal  would  take  place  in  the  course  of  the 
morning. 

When  Myra  opens  it,  she  finds  a  few  lines  from  the 
manager. 

"  Wednesday  morning. 
"  My  dear.  Mrs.  Wise  —  I  pray  you,  excuse  this  liberty, 
and  do  me  the  favor  to  accept  the  enclosed  tickets  for 
yourself  and  friends.  I  very  much  desire  that  you  shall 
honor  the  House  with  your  presence  to-night,  that  you 
may  be  among  the  first  to  hail  the  dawning  fame  of  your 
son,  the  fruits  of  your  own  precepts.  In  short,  that  you 
may  see  your  own  noble  attributes  and  perfections 
reflected  in  the  little  mirror  before  the  foot-lights. 

"  Yours,  respectfully, 

"G-ooch." 

Myra  hastily  penned  her  thanks ;  but  declined,  on  the 
score  of  having  no  suitable  escort. 

In  a  very  short  time  the  manager  had  found  Doctor 
Brown,  explained  to  him  what  he  had  done,  and  then  put 
into  his  hands  the  two  lines  from  Myra. 

"  Well  ?  "  says  Doctor  Brown,  dryly. 

"  Well !  yes,  well !  don't  you  see  what  I  want?" 

"No,"  said  the  Doctor.  "How  should  I?  You  have  not 
told  me,  and  you  don't  look  at  me,  so  that  I  may  read  it 
in  your  eyes." 

"  Go  to,  man !  Where  is  all  that  foresight,  or  rather 
quicksight,  into  other  peoples  business,  which  belongs  to 
your  calling?  I  wish  you  to  see  these  ladies,  and  in  the 
most  business-like  way  (eschewing  everything  like  gal- 


196 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


lantry),  offer  to  conduct  them  to  my  box,  on  the  left-hand 
side,  near  the  stage.  Mind,  Brown,  none  of  your  blun- 
dering bluntness.  Bear  in  mind  what  you  are  doing,  and 
at  whose  behest.  It  is  a  delicate  flower  you  will  have  to 
handle,  and  see  that  you  deport  yourself  properly  and 
respectfully." 

"  Gooch,  I'll  be  blamed,  if  I  did  not  know  you  were  the 
very  prince  of  all  good  fellows,  I'd  knock  you  down  where 
you  stand." 

Gooch,  who  was  quite  tall  and  stout,  clapped  his  hand 
low  down  on  his  stomach  and  groaned  —  intending  to 
convey  the  idea  that  it  would  be  about  that  region,  where 
the  doughty  little  man's  blows  would  fall.  The  exceed- 
ingly grotesque  expression  of  mock  pain  caused  the  doc- 
tor to  roar  out ;  and  so  his  ire  passed  off,  as  he  himself 
passed  on  his  way  to  call  on  Myra  and  good  little  Minny 
Dun. 

He  simply  stated  to  Mrs.  "Wise  the  younger,  that  he 
should  come  in  the  evening  to  conduct  her  and  Minny  to 
the  theater,  nolens  volens — having  engaged  a  box  very 
near  the  stage,  thinking  she  would  most  enjoy  this  situa- 
tion. He  left  without  giving  her  time  to  reply,  and  hur- 
ried down  to  the  toy-shop. 

He  found  Minny  behind  her  little  counter,  showing  her 
little  wares  to  a  prim  little  old  woman.  When  she  had 
concluded  her  sale,  and  dropped  the  little  piece  of  money 
into  the  little  drawer,  she  turned  her  attention  to  the  lit- 
tle doctor ;  and  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  the  reader,  a 
little  blush  mantled  the  little  cheeks  of  each. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Minny.  Come  get  your  bonnet 
and  go  with  me  to  see  Mrs.  Wise.  I  have  some  business 
with  you  both  together." 

On  his  way  he  made  known  to  Minny  the  nature  of 
his  errand,  and  instead  of  having  any  scruples  to  combat, 
the  dear  little  creature  was  wild  with  delight  at  the  idea. 
She  clapped  her  hands,  then  clasped  them  both  round 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


197 


the  doctor's  arm,  and  cried,  in  real  ecstacy :  "  Aweel ! 
aweel !  It  will  be  sae  delightful  to  see  the  winsome  bairn 
in  that  bonny  part.  The  good,  dutiful  son,  the  clever 
Albert.  Oh,  doctor,  I'm  sae  glad  to  go,  and  I'm  sae 
obleeged  to  ye  for  taking  me." 

The  doctor  felt  amply  repaid  for  all  the  annoyances  he 
had  known  during  his  ten  or  twenty  years  servitude  to 
the  public,  by  the  happiness  he  felt  in  affording  such 
unalloyed  pleasure  to  the  good  little  creature  by  his  side. 
In  fact,  there  was  a  freshness,  blended  with  earnestness, 
about  her ;  the  avidity  with  which  she  seized  upon  any 
recreation,  or  opportunity  to  vary  her  monotonous  life, 
never  failed  to  delight  not  only  her  friends,  but  any 
chance  beholder. 

When  they  were  in  Myra's  little  room,  Minny  did  not 
resort  to  arguments  or  persuasions,  but  commenced 
describing,  in  glowing  terms,  the  pride  and  joy  which 
she  (Minny)  anticipated  in  the  child's  triumph. 

"  Oh,  just  to  think  o'  the  wee  bit  bairn  toddling  about  on 
the  beautiful  stage,  in  that  sweet  character  !  "  And  thus 
Minny  rattled  on,  with  wild  joyousness  —  sometimes  kiss- 
ing Myra,  and  almost  kissing  the  doctor  in  her  childish 
glee.  Once  or  twice  she  came  very  near  upsetting  the  old 
lady.  Presently  Myra,  without  having  had  the  slightest 
previous  intention  of  accepting  the  invitation,  found  her- 
self as  much  elated  with  proud  expectancy  as  is  possible 
for  any  one  to  be.  And  there  sat  Dr.  Brown  smiling, 
and  sometimes  laughing  hilariously,  and  all  the  time  gaz- 
ing fondly  on  Minny. 

At  length  the  doctor  jumped  up,  and,  looking  at  his 
watch,  declared  he  had  quite  forgotten  an  important 
engagement,  reminded  the  two  friends  to  be  ready,  and 
left  them. 

During  the  whole  time  passed  as  above  described, 
the  old  lady  sat  moodily  rocking  herself  without  speak- 
ing a  word.    When  the  doctor  had  gone,  she  roused  up, 


198 


THE    NIGH  T    W  A  T C H  . 


and  said  gruffly,  "  Well,  Myra,  I  did  not  think,  after  all 
your  sorrows,  that  you  could  have  any  heart  in  you  to 
play  the  fool  in  this  way." 

"  Grandma,  don't  bother  me.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  go,  and  there  is  no  use  in  throwing  obstacles  in  the  way, 
or  croaking  either.  I  should  think  you  would  wish  me 
the  relaxation  of  going  out  once  in  a  year.  Everything 
in  God's  beautiful  world  has  been  closed  to  me  so  long." 

"  Ah !  Myra,  well  do  I  know  that  there  is  no  use  in 
talking  to  such  a  girl  as  you  are.  You  were  always  self- 
willed  and  obstinate  about  one  or  two  things  —  good  in  all 
else.  You  never  would,  nor  never  will,  I  fear,  listen  to 
the  sober  voice  of  reason,  when  the  syren  one  of  love 
whispers."  Seeing  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and  a  flush 
of  vexation  overspreading  the  pale  face  of  her  daughter, 
she  went  on,  with  an  assumed  show  of  temper,  herself: 
"  Now  you  are  off  again  !  Dear  me,  what  a  life  I  do  lead ! 
Well,  I  don't  care.  Ill  speak  if  the  house  comes  down 
over  my  head.  You  are  not  satisfied  w^ith  starting  the 
poor  child  off  on  the  road  to  ruin,  but  you  must  e'en  travel 
the  same  broad,  downward  path  yourself." 

u  Aweel !  aweel !  ISTow  dinna  fash,  grandam,  it  will  all 
turn  out  weel  and  right  in  the  end.  Mind  what  I  tell  ye. 
Wait  and  see." 

"  Yes  !  '  all's  wrell  that  ends  well.'  Every  fool  knows 
that;  but  this  is  not  agoing  to  turn  out  well.  Mind  what 
/tell  you.  Wait  and  see  that,  Minny  Dun!"  and  she 
hobbled  out  of  the  room,  with  an  injured  and  vexed  look. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


199 


GHAPTEE  XXI. 

THE  AMBUSH. 

"  Then  bursting  broad,  the  boundless  shout  to  heaven, 
From  many  an  hundred  hearts  ecstatic  sprung." 

"  My  plots  fall  short,  like  darts  which  rash  hands  throw, 
With  an  ill  aim,  that  have  too  far  to  go." 

Miss  Lindsay  sat  in  her  splendid  boudoir  waiting  for 
her  lover.  She  was  on  this  evening  looking  radiantly 
beautiful.  She  had  received  a  note  in  the  morning,  with 
"  Colonel  Murray's  compliments,  begging  to  be  allowed 
the  honor  of  accompanying  her  to  the  theater.  At  least, 
he  hoped  to  be  permitted  to  make  one  in  her  brilliant 
train,  if  he  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  find  her  monopo- 
lized for  the  walk."  The  poor  girl  was  so  blinded  by 
vanity,  so  much  exalted  in  her  own  estimation  by  those 
continual  ovations,  that  she  was  almost  beside  herself. 
She  could  not  see  that  this  was  not  Murray's  way  of 
addressing  her.  She  only  saw  that  it  was  his  handwriting, 
and  then  sat  down  to  reply  to  the  note,  and  to  revel  in 
the  consciousness  of  this  new  triumph  of  her  charms. 
For  be  it  remembered,  this  was  a  'very  unusual  attention 
from  him,  and  as  unexpected  as  it  was  pleasing.  Hence 
her  beaming  countenance. 

Murrav  had  never  seen  the  note ;  and  with  shame  be  it 
spoken,  had  not  thought  of  Gertrude.  After  tea,  when 
his  servant  brought  his  hat  and  cloak,  his  mother  said, 

M  Conrad,  Gertrude  expects  you  this  evening ;  I  had 
forgotten  to  tell  you.  She  expects  you  to  go  with  her  to 
the  theater." 


200  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

He  frowned,  and  replied,  "I  do  not  know  why  she 
should;  I  have  not  asked  her  "  

"  Charles  Conrad  Murray,  you  are  a,  a,  a  (brute,  said 
the  lady  mentally)  cynic.  You  must  go  for  her ;  I  desire 
it,  particularly." 

"  Very  well,  madam,  I  will  call."  When  he  pro- 
nounced these  words  he  did  not  intend  to  prove  recreant 
to  the  promise  ;  but  as  he  passed  into  the  street  he  saw 
Murdoch  walking  by  and  joined  him,  without  giving 
another  thought  to  Gertrude  or  his  mother.  They  saun- 
tered on  together,  talking  a  little,  but  for  the  most  part 
preserving  silence  —  for  Murdoch  was,  as  you  know,  a 
man  of  small  speech. 

They  had  now  reached  a  lonely,  gloomy  portion  of  the 
city,  where  the  Night  Watch  generally  commenced  his 
vigils.  It  was  growing  late,  almost  dark.  An  old  cov- 
ered bridge  was  on  their  right.  At  that  moment  a  figure, 
closely  muffled,  darted  from  the  place,  and  coming  quickly 
up  to  Murdoch,  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Come  with  me,  friend ;  I  have  waited  long." 

"  Ha  !  it  is  some  time  since  I  have  heard  that  Nightin- 
gale voice."  Then,  without  taking  the  least  notice  of  his 
companion,  he  followed  the  girl. 

Murray  stood  there  alone,  like  a  tall,  black  pillar,  in 
the  faint  starlight  —  so  erect  and  motionless  was  he. 

"  More  mysteries !  "  said  he.  After  waiting  a  few 
moments  for  their  egress  from  the  bridge,  he  turned  and 
walked  slowly  back.  As  he  passed  the  theater  the  thun- 
dering sounds  issuing  from  it  startled  him  from  his 
revery  ;  and  then,  and  only  then,  did  he  think  of  Miss 
Lindsay. 

"  Well !  I  am  a  brute,  as  my  mother  said  parenthet- 
ically ;  but  I  heard  the  hissing  word  when  she  tried  to 
turn  it  into  cynic.  Yes ;  I  do  believe  I  am  a  brute.  I 
will  go  now  and  ask  the  proud  beauty's  pardon." 

When  he  entered  the  house  he  perceived  at  a  glance 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


201 


that  the  crowd  was  crushing.  That  deafening  applause, 
which  had  at  all  times  greeted  the  child's  appearance  had 
just  subsided,  and  the  little  fellow  was  speaking. 

u  I  must  manage  to  hear  this,"  said  Murray,  turning  to 
the  box-keeper.    "  Is  Miss  Lindsay's  box  full." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  grinning.  "  Her  box  is  always 
crowded." 

'Who  is  with  her?" 

"Well,  sir,  the  same  1  gemmen9  that  always  follows  her ; 
Mr.  Josiah  Gaines,  and  nine  or  ten  others." 

"  Where  then  can  I  find  a  place,  Drummond." 

"  Maybe,  p'r'aps  I  might  squeeze  you  into  a  seat  in  the 
manager's  box,  if  that  '11  do. 

"Lead  on,  sir,"  said  Murray,  dropping  a  piece  of  silver 
into  the  hand  of  the  man. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  place  designated,  there  seemed 
not  to  be  space  for  your  hand ;  but  such  a  fine  "  open 
sesame"  is  a  little  piece  of  silver,  that  Drummond  very 
soon  made  a  vacancy.  Murray  then  proceeds  to  wedge 
himself  into  the  place.  At  first  his  attention  was  wholly 
absorbed  by  the  little  Albert,  and  he  found  himself,  ere 
he  was  aware  of  it,  wiping  his  eyes. 

There  were  two  ladies  sitting  on  the  seat  before  him. 
One  appeared  to  be  a  remarkably  pleasing  little  woman ; 
all  versatility  and  good  humor — full  of  quaint  yet  sensible 
criticisms  on  the  play  and  performance.  The  other  was 
a  lady  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and  so  closely  veiled 
that  you  could  scarcely  hear  her  voice  when  she  replied 
to  the  questions  of  the  merry  little  soul  by  her  side.  She 
seemed  all  the  time  to  be  struggling  to  subdue  her  feel- 
ings ;  and  when  Master  Clarens  came  out  again  she  was 
seized  with  even  a  more  overwhelming  agitation.  The 
boy,  from  time  to  time,  cast  quick  and  anxious  glances 
toward  that  box ;  especially  at  the  veiled  figure. 

Just  then  there  was  a  great  sensation  in  the  opposite 
box.    A  moment  before,  Murray  had  discovered  Miss 


202 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Lindsay  almost  lying  in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Gaines,  as  she 
turned  to  speak  up  to  some  one  behind  her.  On  resettling 
herself,  she  encountered  the  cold,  haughty  look  of  her 
betrothed.  Then  she  turned  deadly  pale,  and  said  to 
Gaines,  "  I  am  sick  at  heart,  and  shall  surely  die  in  ten 
minutes,  if  you  do  not  bring  me  some  relief."  But  after 
saying  this  she  threw  herself  so  heavily  on  his  breast  that 
he  was  obliged  to  remain  and  support  her. 

He  called  to  a  gentleman  and  said,  "  Dr.  Brown  is  in 
the  house ;  seek  him  out,  and  bring  him  as  quickly  as 
possible." 

Amid  the  senseless  confusion  that  usually  waits  on  such 
scenes,  he  left  for  this  purpose.  Leaning  over,  he  touched 
the  doctor  on  the  shoulder :  "  Come,  come  quickly !  'tis 
thought  Miss  Lindsay's  about  to  die." 

Murray  heard  it  all,  and  saw  it  all,  but  he  was  too  well 
posted  up  in  Gertrude's  peculiarities  not  to  understand. 
He  had  witnessed  her  inimitable  acting  before  ;  therefore, 
not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved,  not  a  fiber  of  his  frame 
quivered,  not  even  a  pulse  of  that  naturally  warm  heart 
beat  the  quicker  when  he  heard  that  alarming  announce- 
ment. 

The  kind  little,  bustling  doctor  whispered  a  few  hur- 
ried words  to  Minny,  saying  as  he  rose,  "  I  will  return 
as  soon  as  possible."  On  perceiving  Col.  Murray,  he 
exclaimed,  "  God  bless  me,  Conrad  !  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you.  'Tis  most  opportune.  There,  take  my  seat  and 
guard  those  la  "  — —  He  was  jerked  away  without  hav- 
ing time  to  finish  the  sentence. 

When  Murray  had  taken  his  place  by  Minny,  on  the 
front  seat,  he  saw  Gertrude  carried  from  the  house  in  the 
arms  of  Mr.  Gaines,  but  without  one  pang  of  envy  or 
jealousy. 

The  play  proceeds.  The  next  act  develops  more 
fully  the  treachery  of  Gesler.  The  noble  Swiss  is  offered 
an  alternative,  a  chance  of  life,  by  jeopardizing  that  of 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


203 


his  son  —  shooting  an  apple  from  the  head  of  his  darling 
boy.  But  we  presume,  dear  reader,  that  you  and  every- 
body are  acquainted  with  this  thrilling  story. 

Murray,  on  turning  to  look  at  the  lady  at  his  side,  meets 
a  pair  of  ingenuous  grey  eyes,  and  a  beaming  smile  ;  she 
thus  acknowledging  his  kindness  without  the  slightest 
embarrassment,  or  showing  any  feeling  of  distrust,  or  other 
emotion,  save  that  of  gratitude  for  his  implied  protection. 
How  bewitching  is  this  naive,  simple  trustfulness.  He 
bowed  to  this  look,  and  there  was  a  tacit  acquaintance 
established  between  them.  Eut  the  arbitrary  laws  of  soci- 
ety precluded  the  admissibility  of  his  addressing  a  word 
to  her,  as  they  had  not  been  introduced. 

His  attention  was  now  attracted  to  the  other  lady,  who 
seemed  to  be  almost  choking  with  suppressed  sobs. 

The  girl  at  her  side  looked  troubled,  and  said,  "  Aweel, 
aweel ;  now  deary,  dinna  be  alarmed,  we  are  not  alone. 
The  doctor  left  us  in  charge  of  his  friend,  Col.  Murray  : 
as  he  called  him  before  he  left." 

At  that  name,  a  wild  thrill  ran  through  her  frame,  and 
she  felt  as  if  she  must  shriek  out,  and  echo  it.  or  die. 
A  brawny  but  tremulous  hand  passed  a  glass  of  water. 
Murray  received  it,  and  as  he  raised  his  eyes  to  thank  the 
person,  he  met  those  of  the  honest  Kight  Watch.  His 
paleness  was  corpse-like. 

Minny  laid  her  little  hand  on  his  arm,  and  said  in  a 
whisper,  "  Come,  Murdoch,  be  a  man ;  dinna  take  on  sae, 
my  gude  Murdoch." 

The  curtain  again  rises.  Albert  is  stationed  with  the 
apple  on  his  head ;  Tell  has  drawn  the  bow  ;  the  arrow  is 
sped.  There  is  a  stifled  shriek,  then  all  is  still  again. 
The  apple  falls,  and  the  child  is  safe,  and  locked  in  the 
arms  of  his  father. 

In  the  roar  of  acclamation,  that  stifled  shriek  is  for- 
gotten by  all  save  two  persons.  Even  Minny  has  ceased 
to  think  of  it ;  but  it  rung  long  in  the  ears  of  the  humble 


204 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


ISTight  "Watch,  and  haunted  the  memory  of  the  haughty 
Murray  like  a  troubled  dream. 

They  were  leaving  the  house  as  speedily  as  possible, 
when  Murdoch  touched  Murray  and  said,  "  Don't  hurry, 
Colonel,  wait  a  moment  in  the  lobby.  Mind  what  I  say, 
sir,  do  not  hurry  !  " 

Murray  had  placed  himself  between  the  two  ladies  ;  but 
the  fingers  of  the  veiled  figure  scarce  touched  his  arm, 
though  he  could  feel  that  she  trembled.  Lest  the  little  hand 
which  hung  so  loosely  should  fall  away,  and  its  owner  be 
wheeled  off  in  that  rushing  crowd,  he  reached  under  his 
cloak,  took  hold  of  it,  and  attempted  to  draw  it  forward. 
Oh  !  what  a  start !  The  hand  quivered  like  something 
alive  in  his  grasp.  Then  he  felt  her  form  hang  heavily 
on  his  arm.  And  thus  it  was  that  he  had  forgotten  the 
good  Murdoch's  warning  injunction. 

They  had  now  arrived  before  some  untenanted  houses, 
which  were  each  divided  by  a  dark  alley.  Those  build- 
ings were  tall,  and  the  shadows  cast  from  them  were  deep 
and  dark.  Just  as  Murray  felt  the  lady  fall  on  his  arm 
like  a  dead  weight,  six  masked  figures  rushed  out  from 
those  dark  alleys  and  surrounded  the  little  party.  In  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  their  mouths  were  stopped.  Three 
men  seized  Col.  Murray,  but  with  the  strength  of  a  Her- 
cules, he  wrenched  his  arms  loose,  as  the  men  were  try- 
ing to  tie  his  hands  behind  him,  and  dealing  right  and 
left  such  blows  with  his  clenched  fist  as  you  might  sup- 
pose Vulcan  did  with  his  sledge-hammer,  he  had  in  a  few 
seconds  laid  two  men  at  his  feet ;  then  as  the  third  meas- 
ured his  length  on  the  pavement,  a  fourth  drew  his  knife, 
and  slipping  up,  thrust  it  into  his  side. 

"O  God!  where  is  Murdoch?"  and  he  fell  heavily 
across  the  prostrate  bodies,  with  a  deep  groan. 

The  rattle  of  the  Night  Watch  is  heard,  and  Murdoch 
and  his  myrmidons  came  running  up.  All  had  passed  so 
quickly,  and  the  work  of  treachery  and  death  had  gone 


THE    N  I  G  H  T  WATCH. 


205 


on  so  quietly,  that  although  the  guard  were  concealed  at 
a  very  short  distance,  nothing  had  occurred  to  give  notice 
of  the  attack  until  Murdoch,  who  had  waited  for  the  child 
as  usual  to  answer  to  the  call  of  the  house,  came  in  sight 
and  sprung  the  alarm  rattle.  Then  they  all  started  up, 
as  if  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  spot,  they  found  three  men 
apparently  dead,  and  Murray  weltering  in  his  blood.  The 
other  three  had  escaped,  fled  at  the  first  sound  of  that 
dread  rattle.  Murdoch  and  his  men  were  a  great  terror 
to  evil-doers,  and  he  was  a  tower  of  strength  within  him- 
self.   And  that  rattle  —  Oh  !  that  rattle. 

He  looks  around  anxiously,  but  there  is  nothing  to  tell 
of  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  the  two  females.  He 
gives  the  child  into  the  care  of  one ;  utters  a  few  brief, 
hurried  directions  to  another,  about  the  body  of  Murray, 
who  had  fainted  from  loss  of  blood ;  and  then  darts  off  in 
an  opposite  direction. 

Several  men  take  up  the  lifeless  form,  and  placing  it  on 
a  litter  of  old  boards,  found  hard  by,  they  move  off.  The 
man  who  has  the  child  in  charge,  conveys  him  to  the 
place  designated  by  Murdoch ;  the  other  is  left  to  guard 
the  fallen  assailants  until  the  watch  shall  rally  and  remove 
them  to  the  guard-house. 

No  sooner  had  these  two  parties  separated,  and  were 
out  of  sight,  than  the  three  ruffians  came  to  life,  sprang 
to  their  feet,  and  seizing  the  solitary  guard  pitched  him 
headlong  into  the  gutter,  and  scampered  off. 

"When  Johnson,  the  man  entrusted  with  the  child, 
arrived  at  the  hovel,  he  found  Minny  wringing  her  hands 
and  sending  forth  such  wails  as  only  a  little  Scotch  body 
could  send.  The  poor  old  lady  !  There  she  sat ;  her  eyes 
closed,  her  grey  hair  hanging  in  tags  from  under  her 
night-cap,  rocking  herself  furiously,  and  crying  out, 

V I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  I  said  it  would  be  so.  I  felt  it 
here  and  here,"  touching  her  head  and  her  heart ;  "  but  you 


206 


THE    NIGH  T     W  A  T  C  II . 


would  not  heed  the  old  woman  !  She  was  always  willful. 
Oh  !  my  lost  children  !  " 

Minny  took  the  child,  who  was  so  much  fatigued  by  the 
exertions  of  the  evening  that  he  slept  soundly,  without 
his  little  heart  being  troubled.  He  knew  nothing  of  what 
had  passed. 

Johnson  touched  his  cap,  and  said,  "  Captain  Murdoch 
ordered  me  to  fetch  the  Doctor,"  and  vanished. 

When  Murdoch  had  started  off  so  unceremoniously,  he 
ran  straight  in  the  direction  of  the  Jews'  Quarter.  On 
arriving,  he  plunged  into  that  dark  alley,  and  reaching 
the  dirty  little  court  back  of  the  house,  he  tries  to  open 
the  door,  but  finds  it  fast.  The  stars  only  were  shining, 
yet  to  one  so  accustomed  to  darkness  this  was  sufficient. 
He  looked  around  for  something  with  which  he  could  force 
the  lock,  but  not  finding  anything  he  clenches  that  mall 
fist,  and  with  one  blow  shivered  the  boards  ;  then  wrench- 
ing off  the  iron  bars,  he  begins  to  ascend  the  long  winding 
steps.  When  he  reaches  the  landing  he  must  also  stop  to 
breathe  before  he  is  in  the  room.  The  little  bell  had  tin- 
kled but  was  succeeded  so  quickly  by  the  entrance  of 
Murdoch,  that  old  Faggot  was  in  the  act  of  bearing  the 
lifeless  body  of  Myra  across  the  room. 

Such  was  his  amazement,  such  the  panic,  on  seeing  Mur- 
doch (for  the  Jew  would  much  rather  have  met  face  to  face 
Satan  himself,  just  at  that  moment,  than  the  fierce  Night 
Watch),  that  he  let  the  delicate  form  of  his  victim  fall. 

"  Wretched  !  miserable  old  man  !  Why  have  you  done 
this?  Faggot,  if  it  wTere  not  for  your  sweet  daughter's 
sake  ;  if  it  were  not  that  I  have  loved  Leah  more  dearly 
than  any  brother  ever  loved  a  sister,  I  would  crush  every 
bone  in  that  old  dried  skin  of  yours.  As  it  is  I  believe 
I  had  better  kill  you  at  once.  Why  should  such  garbage, 
such  vile  carrion,  be  allowed  to  cumber  the  earth  longer.'* 

The  Jew  fell  on  his  knees,  and  clasping  his  hands 
together,  in  the  most  abject  manner  whines  out, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


207 


"  Oh !  oh !  oh !  Mine  goot  sir,  have  mercy  on  thy 
servant.'' 

This  only  inflamed  the  brave  Murdoch,  and  seizing  him 
by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  he  jerked  him  to  his  feet,  and 
shook  him  so  furiously  that  I  presume  the  soul  would 
have  been  forced  from  the  poor  old  body  in  a  very  short 
time,  had  not  Leah  glided  from  under  those  old  clothes  on 
the  wall. 

Two  words  of  deprecation  from  those  beautiful  lips,  in 
that  peculiarly  silvery  voice  were  enough.  "  O  Mur- 
doch !  "  He  slung  the  Jew  from  him,  across  the  room, 
exclaiming,  "  Why  should  the  strong  man  crush  the 
worm  ?  "  Then  turning  to  Leah,  he  beheld  her  with  as 
much  surprise  as  admiration.  Oh  !  how  lovely  she  looked ; 
how  transcendently  beautiful  and  bright.  He  approached 
her,  and  entwining  his  arms  around  her  waist,  embraced 
her  tenderly. 

"  Leah !  Ah  !  my  beloved  Leah,  why  have  you  hid 
away  from  me  so  long  ?  Do  you  no  longer  love  your  poor 
Murdoch." 

uDear  Murdoch,"  said  she,  in  a  very  hurried  voice,  not 
seeming  to  heed  his  looks  of  admiration  ;  "  dear  Murdoch, 
I  have  come  to  tell  thee,  that  the  accomplices  in  this  out- 
rage are  coming  at  this  moment  into  the  Pandemonium  • 
so  thou  must  hurry  off  with  the  lady.  For  God's  sake  do 
not  let  them  find  thee  here,  or  /  shall  be  the  sufferer." 

She  turned  to  Myra,  and  kneeling  down  poured  some 
restoring  draught  into  her  mouth,  and  kissed  her ;  then 
she  seemed  to  listen.  When  springing  to  her  feet  she 
cried,  "  Away !  away,  good  friend,  I  hear  them  coming." 

He  strained  that  slight,  beautiful  girl  to  his  rude, 
manly  breast  for  a  second ;  then  taking  Myra  up  in  his 
arms,  like  an  infant,  gave  another  look  of  unutterable 
respect,  confidence,  and  brotherly  love  to  Leah,  which 
she  returns  tenfold,  saying  in  a  low  tremulous  voice, 
" Dear,  dear  Murdoch!"    She  opened  the  door,  and  ho 


208  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

commenced  descending  the  steps,  as  she  heard  the  footfall 
of  many  persons  in  the  room  adjoining. 

The  old  Jew  now  gets  up  from  his  crouching  attitude, 
where  he  had  remained  w7hen  falling  from  Murdoch's 
hand,  and  commenced  whining,  "  Oh  !  oh !  oh !  It  is  all 
gone ;  one  tousand  monish !  five  hundred  monish  !  Oh !  fad- 
der  Abraham  !  It  is  all  gone.  Oh  !  Dat  Leah  !  dat  Leah  !  " 

He  then  appi'oached  the  girl  with  a  menacing  look,  and 
uplifted  hand  to  strike.  With  the  ease  and  activity  of  a 
cat  she  sprang  away  from  him.  He  followed  her  up,  and 
while  his  mouth  froths  with  impotent  rage,  and  his  eyes 
glare,  says : 

"  Now  may  de  Got  of  mine  peoplesh  curse  thee  !  May 
thy  mother's  spirit  curse  thee !  May  thy  bones  be  broken, 
and  thy  flesh  rot,  and  may  thou  be  alive  to  see  it,  and  feel 
it,  and  know  it !  May  thou  be  cursed  in  thy  love,  and  in 
thy  life,  and  unto  thy  death !  Thou  renegade  from  thy 
peoplesh,  and  de  religion  of  their  Got !  The  Got  of  thine 
Fadders !  " 

She  holds  up  her  finger,  pointing  warningly  toward  him. 

u  Peace  !  old  man.  Thou  hast  done  enough  wrong  in 
this  world,  wrought  enough  ruin  ere  now  without  cursing 
thy  own  child !  Go !  go  !  I  say,  father,  go  to  bed  —  to 
sleep,  aye,  to  sleep  !  Dost  thou  know  aught  of  that  ?  Or 
hast  thou  too,  murdered  sleep.  Poor  old  man,  I  pity  thee ! 
Would  that  I  could  help  thee,  poor  father ! " 

The  last  exclamation  was  wrung  from  the  heart  of  the 
maiden,  as  her  eye  fell  on  the  base,  craven -looking  old 
man  cowering  beneath  the  just  indignation  of  his  noble- 
minded,  pure-hearted  daughter.  It  was  but  an  instant, 
and  then  the  fiend  spoke. 

M  False  !  false  thou  art,  girl,  to  thy  kindred,  and  to  thy 
peoplesh  !  I  have  seen  it !  my  own  old  eyes  have  beheld 
thee  in  de  arms  of  de  ISTazarene  dog.  Leah !  Oh !  mine 
Got!  Leah  thou  must  die !  die  de  secret  death  which  is  the 
reward  of  thy  apostacy.    Dese  old  eyes  have  lived  to  see 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


209 


mine  own  flesh  and  blood  on  de  breast  of  de  enemy  of  thy 
peoplesh.  So  thou  must  die  mitin  dese  secret  walls,  comely 
as  thou  art." 

When  she  had  heard  her  father  pronounce  those  fearful 
words,  she  gave  one  wild,  startled  look  toward  that  door 
which  opened  into  the  adjoining  room,  where  now  waited 
the  conspirators.  Too  well  did  the  poor  girl  know  what 
dreadful  deeds  of  violence  had  been  done,  as  he  said,  within 
these  secret  walls.  But  remembering  that  the  slightest 
symptom  of  fear  would  only  embolden  him  to  go  forward 
in  any  atrocity,  and  that  to  defy  him  would  avail  more  than 
volumes  of  supplicatory  prayers  for  mercy,  she  retorted  — 

"  Do  thy  worst,  old  man  !  wreak  thy  foiled  vengeance 
on  thy  helpless  child.  But  I  tell  thee,  my  blood  will  cry 
aloud  from  these  walls  (secret  as  thou  thinkest  them),  for 
that  hour  of  retribution — Oh!  my  poor  father! — the  day 
of  reckoning  is  hastening  on  for  thee."  She  weeps.  "True, 
I  have  broken  one  of  the  ancient  laws  of  our  people ;  but 
this  has  passed  away ;  and  were  it  not  so,  or  I  did  not  love 
this  Christian,  which  I  am  proud  to  say  I  do ;  were  it  not 
for  the  influence  I  have  with  'that  vile  JSTazarene,'  as  thou 
dost  call  that  good  man,  thy  own  old  limbs  would  be 
quivering,  and  jerking,  and  whirling  between  heaven  and 
earth  at  this  time.  Father,"  and  she  approached  quite 
near,  "thy  daughter  whom  thou  hast  cursed  so  fearfully, 
has  saved  thy  life  three  times." 

Then  she  whispered  something  in  his  ear  which  made 
him  shudder.  She  looked  pityingly  at  him,  and  her  sweet 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  as  she  took  his  hand  —  that  cold 
damp  hand  —  and  kissing  it,  said  : 

"  Fear  not !  Peace  be  with  thee,  poor  father  !  I  am  still 
thy  friend  ;  although  thou  hast  cursed  me,  and  would  just 
now  have  killed  me." 

The  old  man  came  cringingly  toward  her,  with  his  — 
"Oh,  Oh,  Oh."    But  Leah  receded  from  him,  and  sud- 
denly disappeared. 
18 


210 


THE     NIG  H T    W  A T  C  H  . 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  FALL. 

"One  struggle  more,  and  I  am  free 

From  pangs  that  rend  my  heart  in  twain, 
One  last  long  sigh  to  love  and  thee, 
Then  back  to  busy  life  again." 

When  Murdoch  reached  the  bottom  of  that  long  spiral 
stairway,  what  with  fatigue,  want  of  breath,  but  above 
all,  excessive  agitation,  he  came  very  near  falling  with 
his  precious  burden.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  his 
strength  failed  him ;  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  rest  one 
moment.  The  cool  night  air  blowing  so  freshly  on  Myra's 
face,  and  maybe  the  tremendous  blows  which  that  pent-up 
heart  continued  to  give  right  under  her  ear,  as  he  kept 
her  clasped  in  that  maddening  embrace,  together  with 
the  cordial  administered  by  Leah,  had  revived  her.  She 
opened  her  eyes,  and  looking  frantically  around,  closed 
them  again,  and  nestling  like  a  little  bird  in  his  bosom, 
sighs  and  says  —  "Dear  one,  I  have  found  you  at  last,  and 
am  happy." 

Poor  Murdoch  !  Alas  !  poor  M  urdoch  !  think  of  Leah, 
dear  good  Murdoch  !  This  proud  lady  clinging  so  fondly 
to  thee  !  so  like  a  tender  fledgling  resting  in  thy  bosom, 
is  thinking  of  another.    Poor  Murdoch  ! 

The  man  is  beside  himself ;  he  strains  her  to  his  faith- 
ful, honest  bosom;  but  hearing  approaching  footsteps,  he 
takes  her  up  in  his  arms,  and  passes  on.  Being  now 
unable  to  proceed  further,  he  calls  a  hack,  and  as  he 
places  her  in  it,  finds  she  has  fallen  asleep  like  a  child  in 
its  mother's  arms. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  211 

The  motion  of  the  vehicle  awakes  her,  and  clinging 
still  more  closely  to  him,  she  sighs  out — "  They  shall  not 
tear  me  from  you  again,  my  beloved !  We  are  once  more 
united,  and  whether  there  be  guilt,  or  shame,  or  degrada- 
tion I  care  not  —  I  am  thine  now,  throughout  time  and 
eternity." 

Poor  Murdoch !  It  does  seem  as  if  he  were  too  severely 
tried.  He  believes  that  last  protestation  of  undying  affec- 
tion is  addressed  to  him ;  he  thinks  it  applicable  to  their 
peculiar  situations.  He  believes  it  to  be  an  uncontrollable 
gush  of  fervent  love,  the  reward  of  his  own  mighty 
devotion.  He  again  strains  her  to  his  heart ;  but  he  is 
past  all  utterance.  Surprise,  rapture,  and  gratitude  have 
made  him  mute. 

Again  the  lady  murmurs,  and  her  voice  is  not  louder 
than  the  rustle  of  the  zephyr's  wing,  or  the  soft  sweet 
note  of  the  fabled  bulbul.  He  inclines  his  ear  to  catch 
the  syllables.    She,  nestling  still  closer,  says  : 

"  How  did  you  find  me  out,  dear  one  ?  Ah !  yes,  I 
know  ;  you  are  always  on  the  alert :  you  have  long  been 
my  guardian  spirit,  my  brave,  my  noble,  my  worshiped 
Conrad." 

Murdoch  started  as  if  he  had  been  bitten,  stung,  or 
pierced  to  the  heart.  Had  he  received  the  point  of  a 
sharp  instrument  into  his  heart's  core,  his  whole  frame 
could  not  have  been  more  suddenly  relaxed.  His  arms 
dropped  lifeless  by  his  side,  and  he  suffered  poor  Myra  to 
slip  from  his  embrace  down  to  his  feet,  in  the  bottom  of 
the  carriage.  This  aroused  her  from  her  happy  oblivi- 
ousness, and  she  began  to  weep;  then  followed  heart- 
rending sighs  and  sobs. 

It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  Murdoch  to  witness  suffer- 
ing without  trying  to  succor.  So  now  he  raised  the 
weeping  lady,  and  placing  her  on  the  back  seat,  takes  his 
opposite  to  her  without  speaking.  Poor  Murdoch  !  He 
had  been  hurled  from  heaven  without  any  preparation, 


212 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  II 


and  he  felt  himself  bruised  and  mangled  —  nay,  crushed 
by  the  fall.  Poor  man  !  there  had  been  no  little  jutting 
point  by  the  way  to  break  that  mighty  fall. 

The  lady  continued  to  sob,  and  when  the  good-hearted 
Night  "Watch  essayed  to  utter  a  few  words  of  comfort,  his 
voice  was  so  changed  that  he  started  himself,  and  Myra 
did  not  recognize  it.  Presently  he  succeeded  in  calming 
himself,  and  said,  in  a  cold,  curt,  rather  severe  voice  : 

"  Madam,  I  beg  you  will  compose  yourself,  and  believe 
that  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  have  saved  you  from  a 
den  of  thieves  and  ravishers,  at  the  peril  of  my  own  life ; 
and  am  now  conducting  you  to  your  child  and  your 
friends." 

"  Oh  !  Murdoch,  is  it  you  ?  God  bless  you,  good,  kind 
Murdoch.  What  do  I  not  owe  you?  "  and  she  caught  up 
his  hand  and  bedewed  it  with  tears  of  gratitude. 

But  Murdoch  was'  now  wide  awake.  That  was  a  hard 
fall  he  had  received,  he  will  not  dream  again.  And  then 
dawned  on  his  memory  the  words  Minny  had  once  spoken 
in  such  an  oracular  voice  to  him. 

"  Think  not  of  her,  Murdoch.  Think  not  of  that  proud 
lady.  Would  you  take  to  your  honest  bosom  the  empty 
casket,  when  the  gem  has  gone  to  enrich  that  of 
another?"  And  then,  somehow,  his  thoughts  revert  to 
Leah  ;  and  her  beautiful  face  and  graceful  form  rise  up 
before  him.  Although  the  poor  fellow  had  been  so 
bewildered  by  Myra's  presence,  that  he  did  not,  at  the 
time,  perhaps,  appreciate  her  extreme  beauty,  yet  it  now 
came  up  before  his  mental  vision,  perhaps  greatly  aug- 
mented by  the  check  he  had  just  received. 

They  had  arrived  at  the  hovel.  Murdoch  alights,  and 
handing  Myra  from  the  carriage,  in  the  most  deferential 
way  opened  the  door,  and  she  tottered  in,  falling  into  the 
arms  of  the  affectionate  Minny.  Murdoch  jumped  into 
the  hack,  and  bidding  the  man  drive  as  fast  as  possible, 
he  leaned  from  the  window,  and  taking  off  his  cap,  bared 


THE    NIGHT    WAT  C  H  , 


213 


his  breast  to  the  cold,  night  wind.  After  awhile  was  heard 
in  the  distance,  that  same  calm,  sonorous  voice:  "  Three 
o'clock,  all's  well." 

Myra,  when  urged  by  her  friends  to  give  them  an 
account  of  her  rescue,  can  tell  of  nothing  more  than  her 
ride  home  in  the  hack,  and  Murdoch's  coldness,  which 
seemed  to  wound  her  greatly;  and  then  she  commenced 
sobbing  again,  until  she  went  into  hysteria.  Minny  and 
the  doctor  sat  by  her  the  whole  night. 


When  Johnson  arrived  at  Murray's  mansion,  he  found 
Doctor  Brown  bustling  about  over  the  wTound  as  he 
dressed  it. 

"Ah,  yes!"  said  he,  in  answer  to  Johnson,  "I'll  be 
ready  in  a  minute.  This  patient  will  do  nicely.  I've 
dressed  this  wound  beautifully;  nothing  very  serious 
either,  thank  God  !  It  would  have  been  too  great  a  pity 
for  this  noble  fellow  to  have  been  put  away  so  slily  by 
such  caitiff  wretches  in  the  dark.  Methinks  such  a  fine 
fellow  should  die  gloriously  on  the  field  of  battle,  in 
defense  of  his  country ;  or  else,  in  shielding  beauty 
(which  he  was  trying  to  do,  when  he  got  that  little  love- 
lick  in  the  side).  But  still,  not  by  a  parcel  of  pickpockets. 
Maybe  now  it  might  be  better,  after  all,  to  fall  sweetly 
asleep  in  the  arms  of  his  faithful  old  wife,  after  having 
blessed  and  made  happy  two  generations  or  more.  What 
think  you,  Johnson?" 

"  Well,  it's  hard  to  say,  yer  honor.  I  reckon  it's  no 
odds  though,  how  a  feller  lays  hisself  down,  so  he  gits 
up  the  right  way,  and  then  travels  the  right  road  when 
he  does  git  up.    I  reckon  it's  no  odds  at  all  at  all." 

Having  given  the  patient  a  composing  draught,  and 
seeing  him  fall  off  to  sleep,  he  takes  his  way  with 
unwonted  alacrity  toward  the  hovel,  where  we  next  find 
him. 


214 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTEK  XXIXI. 

THE  COURTSHIP. 

"  She  that  with  poetry  is  won, 
Is  but  a  desk  to  write  upon  ; 
And  what  men  say  of  her,  they  mean 
No  more  than  on  the  thing  they  lean." 

These  two  good  creatures  sat  there  watching  the  dis- 
turbed sleep  of  the  unfortunate  Myra.  Sometimes  she 
raves,  then  beseeches,  and  anon  commands.  Now  she 
calls  out  in  a  frantic  voice,  and  brandishing  her  little 
hands  aloft,  cries, 

"  No,  no  !  I  never  wrill  believe  it.  Father  it  is  false  ! 
Why  did  you  tell  me  this  cunningly-devised  tale,  but  to 
wTin  me  to  your  purposes?  I  knew  it  not,  but  no  matter. 
I  should  still  have  loved  him  as  madly  as  now.  Ah  ! 
"Walter  !  I  saw  the  good  youth  !  I  closed  my  eyes,  but  I 
heard  the  report;  yet  I  saw  not  the  shot."  Then  her 
voice  would  sink  into  a  low  breeze-like  murmur,  and  she 
would  contract  her  body,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  creep 
into  some  loving  bosom.  Then  she  would  smile  plain- 
tively, and  sigh,  and  say,  "Dear  Conrad,  I  am  very  happy." 

The  old  lady  slumbered  in  her  chair ;  the  child  slept 
soundly  on  his  couch.  All  was  still  and  peaceful.  The 
poor  patient  has  at  last  sunk  to  rest. 

Eeader,  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  watchers  should  have 
hitched  their  chairs  nearer,  little  by  little,  until  they  got  to 
be  jammed  up  as  close  together  as  chairs  ever  do  get  to  be; 
and  that  their  hands  should  have  been  attracted  to  each 
other,  and  that  the  doctor's  lips  should  have  found  a  very 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  215 

short  and  easy  road  to  Minny's  hand,  and  a  still  shorter 
and  quicker  one  to  her  lips ;  those  little,  tempting,  cherry 
lips. 

But  you  may  think  it  strange,  and  maybe  wrong,  that 
Minny  was  so  ingenuous  and  innocent  as  not  to  chide,  but 
just  returned  kiss  for  kiss  simply,  and  it  maybe  only  be- 
cause she  saw  it  gave  him  pleasure  ;  still  it  made  her,  she 
did  not  know  wherefore,  yery  happy. 

Doctor  Brown  drew  a  long  breath,  for  he  would  not 
have  acknowledged  to  a  sigh.  Yet  he  could  feel,  and  sigh, 
and  weep  too,  for  the  woes  of  others ;  and  little  man  as  he 
was,  he  had  as  big  a  heart  and  as  great  a  soul  as  either 
Murdoch  or  Murray  ;  was  also  wrought  upon  by  the  same 
passions,  yet  without  the  devastating  whirlwinds,  or  the 
scathing  lightning.  So  then  he  did  really  heave  a  deep, 
real,  bona  fide,  sigh,  and  said  in  a  slow  and  would-be  steady 
voice, 

"  Dear,  good  little  Minny,  I  have  many  things  to  say 
to  you,  and  some  questions  to  ask,  which  I  want  you  to 
answer  like  yourself,  with  candor  and  decision.  And  you 
see,  Minny,  we  must  necessarily  converse  more  familiarly 
than  we  have  ever  done  before." 

H  Certainly,  doctor,  if  you  wish  it,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Ah  !  that's  it  at  once.  I  don't  want  you  to  be  so  for- 
mal. That c  yes,  sir,'  and  '  no,  Doctor,'  must  be  thrown  aside, 
and  a  more  familiar,  and  a  —  and  a  —  a  dearer  name  sub- 
stituted. In  short,  good  girl,  you  would  please  me  much 
better  if  you  would  call  me  by  my  Christian  name,  instead 
of  so  much  siring,  and  doctoring,  and  Browning." 

"  Aweel !  I  would  like  it  too,  but  that's  a'  I  ever  heard. 
I  dinna  ken  mair  than  that.  Tell  it  to  me,  sir.  Let  me 
hear  the  ither  one." 

"  True,  Minny,  I  never  have  told  you  anything  of  my 
family.  Now,  dear  one,  I  was  named  for  my  father,  who 
was  named  for  his  father,  who  was  named  for  Ms  father, 
and  so  on  for  such  a  number  of  generations  that  I  can 


216 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


not  count  back.  And  moreover,  every  one  of  them  save 
your  humble  servant,  Minny,  was  born  in  your  own  coun- 
try, and  claim  noble  descent  from  some  lairds,  who  were 
descended,  a-w-a-y  back,  from  Eob  Eoy,  and  some  other 
big  folk." 

Minny  could  not  suppress  a  merry  titter. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Miss  Dun  ? "  said  he, 
straightening  himself  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Go  on,  sir  ;  I  could  na  help  it.  I  was  sae  joyed  to 
hear  you  say  this."  He  felt  himself  mellowed  by  this 
lubricating  application  to  his  wounded  family  pride.  It 
was  the  first  time  the  little  man  had  ever  left  this,  his 
weakest  point,  uncovered,  and  the  girl  learned  in  the 
course  of  that  conversation  that  he  was  morbidly  sensi- 
tive on  the  subject  of  his  lineage.  Neither  could  he  abide 
his  plebeian  name  of  Brown.  Minny  did  not  like  this  trait. 
The  good,  little,  honest  soul  had  no  fancy  for  reflected 
greatness,  and  when  he  commenced  again  to  speak  of  his 
ancestors,  she  struck  in  : 

"  Aweel,  now,  never  mind  ony  mair  about  that ;  gie  us 
the  name.  What  is  the  name  o'  this  noble  scion  o'  the 
McGregors?" 

He  looked  at  her  very  seriously  for  a  moment,  and 
seemed  to  be  debating  with  himself  whether  he  should 
get  vexed  or  not,  and  his  eyes  glistened  for  that  length  of 
time  ;  then  they  twinkled,  and  the  contracted  muscles 
about  the  mouth  relaxed,  and  naturally  resolved  them- 
selves into  a  bright  smile.  And  then  Minny  gave  one  of 
her  most  gleesome  laughs,  and  taking  his  hand,  she  put  it 
to  her  forehead  and  adds, 

"  Aye,  and  ye  can  be  bright  and  winsome  too,  as  weel 
as  ony  o'  them,  an'  ye  will.    So  now  tell  us  the  name." 

"  Gabriel,"  said  he. 
Gramercy  !  it's  too  lang ;  Oh,  my  gude  man,  I  tell  ye 
it's  too  lang  to  call  ye  by  every  day ;  so  I'll  just  call  ye 
Gabe.  dear  Gabe  and  gude  Gabe,  and  a'  that." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  217 

u  That's  it,  Minny,  that's  the  very  idea.  I  never  did 
meet  with  anybody  before  who  could  read  my  thoughts, 
and  anticipate  my  wishes." 

The  girl  jumped  at  him,,  and  just  as  a  wild,  playful 
child  would  do,  imprints  three  or  four  kisses  on  his  cheeks 
and  forehead,  and  running  her  fingers  through  his  hair, 
puts  it  back  and  kisses  him  again. 

u  There  it  is!  I  was  just  beginning  to  feel  my  need  of 
one  of  them  sweet  articles,  when  you  tender  me  three  or 
four,"  and  they  laugh  hilariously.  "  After  awhile,  I  shall 
not  know  how  to  get  along  without  you,"  said  he. 

u  Now,  dear  G-abe  "  but  her  mouth  was  closed,  and 

there  was  a  smothered  sort  of  a  smacking  noise,  loud 
enough  to  disturb  the  poor  patient,  who  moaned  and 
wept.  "  Oh  !  I  am  so  lonely  !  I  feel  so  desolate  !  "  Then 
all  was  still  as  before. 

Presently  the  doctor  resumed — "I  do  believe,  Minny, 
I  do  believe  in  my  heart  that  I  am  in  love  with  you  !  If 
it  is  not  that,  I  do  not  know  then  what  it  is.  I  somehow 
feel  like  I  always  want  to  be  near  you,  and  certainly  do 
find  myself  more  contented  then  than  at  any  other  time. 
I  always  think  that  you  are  watching  for  me,  Minny,  and 
that  your  little  face  grows  brighter  when  I  do  come.  And, 
Oh  !  Minny,  you  are  every  way  a  dear  little  thing,  and 
you  have,  I  do  know,  the  sweetest  little  mouth." 

Then  there  was  the  same  smacking  noise  as  before,  and 
the  girl  seems  half  stifled  with  something  or  other,  as  she 
tries  to  say,  "  Oh  !  dear  Gabe  !    Dear,  gude  Gabe  !  " 

"  Now  listen  to  me,  Minny.  I  have  something  to  tell 
you  which  will  astonish  you,  no  doubt.  I  never  have 
courted  a  woman  in  my  life.  I  am  now  twenty-eight 
years  old,  and  if  I  do  not  love  you,  then  I  never  have  loved 
anybody.  I  believe  I  shall  be  happy  with  you,  Minny, 
and  wretched  without  you.  Now,  child,  you  who  are  so 
shrewd  about  most  things,  tell  me,  is  not  this  enough  to 


19 


218 


THE     NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H 


begin  with.  Come,  speak,  Minny,  don't  stop  to  blush. 
I'm  in  haste." 

"Uncanny  man  that  ye  are;  I  have  nae  thought  o' 
blushing.    I  was  only  reflecting  like,  o'er  the  subject." 

"Well,  don't  take  time  to  reflect;  I'm  all  impatience 
for  your  decision.  I  had  thought  your  heart  would  have 
answered  at  once." 

"  Aweel  now  !  did  the  warld  ever  hear  o'  sic  a  mon  ? 
Wad  ye  mak  me  judge  and  jury  too,  and  have  me  pass 
sentence  on  my  ain  case  ?  " 

"  Speak,  Minny  ;  speak,  child  ;  I'm  in  a  flame  just  now." 

"  Weel,  Gabriel,  if  the  lassie  was  o'  your  ain  way  of 
thinking,  and  happened  to  be  a  leettle  bit  blinded  wi'  luve 
for  Mr.  Gabriel  Brown,  of  the  stock  o'  the  Bob  "Roys,  then 
I  should  say  that  that  would  be  sufficient." 

The  little  man  started  to  his  feet,  and  looked  at  Minny 
with  amazement ;  then  seating  himself,  with  a  sigh  said, 
"  Miss  Dun,  in  what  way  am  I  to  understand  your 
words?" 

"In  the  right  way,  I  trust,  doctor." 

"  Am  I  to  believe  that  I  have  thrown  away  my  affection 
on  you  ?    That  —  that  —  that  I  have  squandered  "  

"That's  just  as  ye  happen  to  think  o'  me.  That  de- 
pends on  your  ain  opinion  of  me,  doctor." 

"O  Minny!  have  I  garnered  up  my  heart's  treasures 
in  this  pretty  little  casket,  only  to  have  them  thrown  out 
by  such  a  careless  hand?" 

She  did  not  speak. 

"  Minny,  I  thought  you  loved  me  even  as  well  as  I  do 
you.  I  believed,  when  you  suffered  me  to  kiss  your  sweet 
mouth,  and  returned  it  so  heartily,  that  this  was  the  sanc- 
tion and  seal  of  the  tacit  compact  between  ns.  Miss  Dun, 
do  ladies  kiss  and  suffer  themselves  to  be  kissed,  and  mean 
nothing  by  it  ?  Do  they  ?  I  have  no  fancy  for  romance 
in  real  life.    I  thought  we  would  glide  along  smoothly, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


219 


without  provoking  the  fates.  What  did  yon  mean,  Miss 
Dun,  by  thus  leading  me  on  to  commit  and  to  make  as  great 
a  fool  of  myself  as  any  school-boy?  " 

He  looks  so  distressed  and  ludicrously  wretched  that 
the  girl  could  hold  out  no  longer.  Then  she  laughed  and 
cried,  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  said  — 
but  she  could  not  say  it  for  some  time,  so  carried  away 
was  she  by  this  mirthful  mood,  "  Dear,  dear  Gabe,  I  was 
only  trying  you.  You  seemed  a  leettle  bit  too  confident, 
too  secure  ;  but  I  believe  it'll  do.  I  think  your  account 
o'  yourself  will  be  sufficient." 

It  was  agreed  upon  then,  and  they  became  engaged  ; 
the  doctor  stipulating  that  as  soon  as  all  parties  were  well 
again,  that  they  would  marry  "  each  other."  After  this, 
they  talked  of  their  feelings,  the  rise  and  progress  of  the 
same  in  their  souls.  Then  a  calm  succeeded,  and  there 
they  sat,  with  clasped  hands,  listening  to  the  beating  of 
each  other's  hearts,  and  the  low  breathing  of  the  patient. 

Presently,  Minny  got  to  narrating  her  own  history :  how 
she  was  born  on  Lord  Dalkeith's  estate  in  old  Scotland, 
her  father  having  been  that  gentleman's  stewTard  ;  how 
she  had  been  induced,  after  the  death  of  her  parent,  to 
come  to  America,  and  had  finally  concluded  to  settle  down 
in  peace  and  independence  in  the  little  toy-shop  ;  on  the 
beatitude  of  which  mode  of  life  she  expatiated  warmly. 

Seeing  a  smile  on  the  doctor's  face,  she  exclaims  with 
animation  —  "  Aweel,  now,  ye  may  smile  an  ye  will,  but 
there  is  something  right  pleasant  in  being  1  monarch  of 
all  I  survey,'  even  though  that  be  a  little  toy-shop  and 
sma'  back  room,  and  a  crust  o'  bread,  but  always  with 
sunshine  in  the  heart  and  a  gude  fire  on  the  hearth. 
You  need  na  laugh  sae,  dear  Gabe." 

"  Go  on,  Minny ;  go  on,  child,  I  love  to  hear  you  talk ; 
indeed  I  do." 

"  I  have  four  little  rooms  to  my  house  ;  the  front  room 
is  the  store  and  hall,  the  back  one  is  my  parlor,  and  some- 


220 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


times  kitchen.  It  is  always  a  comfortable  place  for  raj 
grandmother,  who  is  more  contented  than  mony  a  lady  in 
her  palace." 

"  True,  most  true.  I  know  a  case  in  point.  Poor  old 
Mrs.  Murray." 

Minny  continued  her  narrative  —  "  One  of  the  upper 
rooms  I  have  loaned  to  a  widow.  Poor  Lucy  May  has 
seen  better  days.  She  has  had,  I  think,  the  misfortune  at 
some  time  to  offend  against  society,  and  was  perhaps 
thrust  out.  She,  poor  thing,  now  hides  away  from  an 
intolerant  and  doubtless  a  more  sinning  world  than  her- 
self. I  know  not  what  her  fault  was,  I  care  not  what  her 
career  has  been  :  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that.  It  is 
the  present  and  the  future  with  which  I  have  to  deal.  I 
know  that  her  life  is  blameless  now,  and  I  think  her  heart 
is  right,  being  full  of  love  to  God.  I  have  helped  her  as 
best  I  could  with  my  little  means,  in  every  way  that  was 
open  to  me;  and  now  I  am  reaping  my  reward.  I  could 
na  have  gone  wi'  you  to-night,  clear  Gabe,  to  see  that 
sweet  play,  I  could  na  be  sitting  here  wi'  poor,  dear  Myra 
now,  if  my  gude  Lucy  May  were  not  there  to  tak'  my 
place  by  my  helpless  grandmither." 

"  What  do  you  get  a  month,  Minny  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  rent  it.  I  mak'  nae  charge.  She  helps  me 
about  many  things  since  she  has  recovered  her  health." 

"  Good  heavens !  You  don't  tell  me  you  had  to  take 
charge  of  a  sick  woman.  Poor,  dear  little  thing !  How 
could  you  accomplish  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  week  What  merit  wad  there  be  in  doing  a 
gude  deed,  if  it  cost  nothing  ?  All  things  were  added, 
and  I  found  every  day,  that  the  way  was  opened  by  which 
I  somehow  obtained  the  necessary  supplies  for  the  poor 
sufferer." 

"  How,  dear  Minny  ?  In  what  way  were  they  furnished  ?  " 
"  Oh,  in  many  ways,  too  tedious  to  mention.    God's  is 
a  vast  storehouse  !    It  never  gives  out." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


221 


"  Well,  child,  I  do  believe  you  are  an  angel  of  mercy, 
sent  here  to  do  such  things  ;  and  that's  the  upshot  of  the 
whole — only  you  are  the  prettiest  and  best  among 
them  all. 

"But,  Minny,  my  dear," — the  Doctor  had  learned  to 
transpose  the  words  ;  it  used  to  be  "  My  dear  Minny  "  — 
"  Now,  Minny,  my  dear,  you  said,  I  think,  that  this  poor 
Lucy  May  was,  or  had  been  an  outcast  from  society.  For 
what  offense  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  I  did  not  know.  I  do  not  wish  to  know. 
The  subject  has  never  been  brought  up  between  us,  and 
never  shall  be,  unless  she  introduces  it,  and  thinks  it  will 
relieve  her  heavy  heart  to  talk." 

"  But,  Minny,  I  do  not  think  I  approve  of  my  little  wife 
being  on  quite  such  familiar  terms  with  an  outcast." 

u  Doctor  Brown,  sorry  am  I  that  ye  hae  spoken  that 
word.  I  dinna  exactly  ken  yet,  but  I  hardly  think  I  do 
luve  you  just  quite  as  weel  as  I  did." 

"  But  you  see  my  motive,  my  dear  little  girl.  I  think 
my  Minny  is  as  pure  as  any  of  those  bright  ones,  who 
continually  do  shine  around  the  '  Great  White  Throne ; ' 
therefore  she  should  not  come  in  contact  with  infamy." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  ye  should  na  judge.  Ye  dinna  ken  your  ain 
heart ;  then  how  can  you  judge  of  anither's.  Christ  has 
said,  that  the  angels  (whom  ye  talk  sae  much  about,  and 
ken  sa  little)  do  rejoice  more  over  one  repentant  sinner, 
than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons.  And  ye  know,  if 
ye  were  your  ain  seF  a  good  shepherd,  and  did  one  o' 
your  nock  go  astray,  ye  wad  leave  all,  and  go  in  pursuit 
o'  him  that  was  lost.  So  you  see,  Gabriel,  God  careth  for 
these  stray  lambs.  Now,  dear  one,  do  ye  hope  ever  to 
get  to  heaven  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  Minny.  Everybody  has  that  hope  in 
some  shape  or  other." 

"  Then  dinna  ye  ken,  that  heaven  will  be  full  o'  repentant 
sinners  ?  The  Saviour  loved  sinners,  you  know,  my  friend, 


222 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


more  than  ye  can  ever  love  wife,  or  child,  or  ony  other 
thing." 

u  Ah  !  I  give  it  up,  darling.  I  give  it  all-  up.  You  have 
converted  me.  I  am  all  sorts  of  a  proselyte  to  any  creed 
you  may  choose  to  hold  and  declare.  I  do  believe  you 
can  give  a  reason  for  everything  that  you  may  do  and 
believe,  which  would  be  satisfactory  to  God  himself." 

"  Ah  !  God  is  not  half  so  hard  on  us  as  we  are  on  each 
ither.  I  would  rather  fall  into  the  hands  o'  the  living 
God  than  into  those  o'  my  fellow  worms." 


THE    N I G H  T    W A  T  C  H  . 


223 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

THE    OLD   JEW'S  family. 

"Hath  not  a  Jew  eyes?  Hath  not  a  Jew  hands,  organs,  dimensions, 
senses,  affections,  passions  ?  Fed  with  the  same  food,  hurt  with  the 
same  weapons,  subject  to  the  same  diseases,  healed  by  the  same 
means,  warmed  and  cooled  by  the  same  winter  and  summer  as  a 
Christian  ?  " 

It  will  be  remembered  when  Gertrude  Lindsay  entered 
the  room  of  the  Jew,  that  Leah  suddenly  disappeared. 
The  girl  lingered,  with  her  ear  to  the  wall,  until  she  had 
heard  all  that  passed  between  the  proud  beauty  and  her 
instrument  of  crime,  poor  Leah's  father.  She  also  learned 
from  what  the  little  black  child  said,  the  condition  of  the 
family  in  the  hovel,  and  was  confirmed  in  her  surmises, 
that  their  nefarious  designs  were  now  to  be  put  in  opera- 
tion against  its  inmates.  In  the  interview  between  the 
little  slave  and  the  old  man,  the  whole  plot  was  made 
known ;  and  as  quickly  did  Leah  form  her  plans  to 
forestall  and  overthrow  it. 

This  poor  girl,  almost  from  her  infancy,  had  been  com- 
pelled to  live  and  act  that  despicable  thing,  a  spy,  an 
eaves-dropper.  She  had  been  trained  to  it  by  her  mother, 
who  was  in  all  things  honest  and  high-minded  ;  and  she 
believed,  conscientiously,  that  the  motive  with  the  end  in 
view,  would  sanctify  the  means  and  ennoble  the  deed. 
To  watch,  listen,  and  prevent  harm ;  forestall  and  hinder 
crime  ;  to  redress  wrongs  and  protect  innocence,  had  been 
the  life-time  work  of  poor  Eachel,  the  mother  of  Leah, 
and  wife  of  Nathan,  the  Jew  merchant.  This  marriage 
had  been  one  of  family  expediency  ;  the  parties  having  in 


224 


T  HE    N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  II . 


view  the  combining  and  consolidating*  their  forces  against 
the  Christian. 

I  know  that  this  sort  of  rancor  between  the  children  of 
Israel  and  the  Gentile  world,  has,  in  a  great  measure, 
subsided ;  and  if  their  condition  is  ameliorated,  and  the 
contempt  in  which  they  were  held  has  given  place  to 
better  feelings,  we  shall  ascribe  it  to  the  mild  and  just 
laws  of  our  glorious  Republic,  which  holds  out  the  same 
immunities,  and  affords  the  same  protection  to  the  alien 
as  to  her  own  children.  But  then,  I  ask,  if  that  instinc- 
tive distrust  of  the  Jew,  the  contempt  felt  for  their  pur- 
suits, the  scorn  for  their  characteristic  servility,  and 
above  all,  their  unholy  love  of  money,  their  usurious  exac- 
tions from  the  necessities  of  all  who  may  chance  to  fall  in 
their  way,  do  not  now,  as  ever,  move  the  worst  disposi- 
tions of  our  nature  tow^ard  them?  Besides,  the  place 
where  we  have  seen  fit  to  locate  our  "  dramatis  persona" 
is  one  which  has  retained  many  more  of  the  primitive 
usages  as  well  as  national  traits  of  this  migratory  people 
than  any  other  one,  perhaps,  in  our  country. 

But  to  our  story :  this  match  had  been  arranged  with- 
out the  mutual  consent  of  the  parties,  for  the  common 
weal  of  the  confederacy  established  in  the  Jews'  Quarter 
of  the  city  of  ,  and  for  the  private  injury  of  her  citi- 
zens. Poor  Rachel  had  never  felt  any  other  emotion  than 
fear  and  dislike  toward  the  creeping,  cringing  thing  she 
was  forced  to  marry ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  end  of 
her  life,  she  swerved  not  from  the  course  she  had  marked 
out  for  herself.  She  had  no  enjoyments,  no  recreations. 
She  sought  none ;  her  whole  being  seemed  absorbed  in 
doing  good  and  thwarting  evil.  She  was,  therefore,  as  I 
have  said,  a  secret  spy  on  her  household.  The  amount 
of  misery  which  she  prevented  —  the  sufferings  she  had 
relieved  —  must  be  her  extenuation  for  this  breach  of 
conjugal  faith.  The  poor,  isolated  woman  feit  herself 
justified  in  the  sight  of  her  Creator;  and  as  to  his  crea- 


* 


THE    N  T  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  IT  . 


225 


tures,  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  approval  or  con- 
demnation. The  fiendish  passions  and  pursuits  of  her 
husband,  the  contracted  minds  and  petty  superstitions  of 
her  people,  together  with  the  scorn  in  which  they  were 
held,  had  made  her  what  she  was — a  prisoner  within  the 
wails  of  that  dismal  old  brick  house. 

In  dying  she  bequeathed  her  office  to  her  daughter, 
Leah  —  initiating  her  into  the  dark  mysteries  of  her 
father's  character,  and  also  into  many  a  secret  of  the 
house,  its  gloomy  passages,  rooms,  walls,  etc.  Many  a 
hidden  stairway,  secret  corridor  and  cunning  device,  had 
been  planned  by  Rachel,  of  which  her  husband  had  no 
knowledge.  Leah  now  was  entrusted  with  the  keys, 
and  made  the  unseen  mover  of  all  the  secret  springs. 

Not  so  with  her  other  daughter,  Hagar  ;  the  mother 
had  no  confidence  in  this  child. 

There  never  had  been  any  congeniality  of  feeling 
between  the  two  sisters ;  but  Leah,  like  her  mother, 
mourned  over  her  depravity,  and  many  times  had  stood 
between  this  neophyte  in  vice,  and  her  hard-hearted 
father :  acting  as  mediator,  only  to  receive,  as  recom- 
pense, treachery  and  hatred. 

Murdoch,  the  Night  Watch,  had  known  this  family  from 
boyhood ;  and,  until  old  Faggot  had  become  so  grovel- 
ing, by  the  indulgence  of  that  soul -killing  passion,  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  paying  them  frequent  visits.  While 
his  wife  lived,  there  was  none  of  that  loathsome  affecta- 
tion of  poverty  about  the  husband.  The  miser  he  was, 
but  on  a  more  enlarged  scale ;  and  numberless  petty 
meannesses  were  concealed  from  the  high-minded  Eachel, 
else  would  she  have  spurned  him  as  a  worthless  cur-dog. 
The  one  redeeming  trait,  the  one  human  feeling  which 
avarice  had  left  in  that  little  murky  soul,  was  intense 
animal  affection,  and  boundless  admiration  for  his  wife. 

When  this  poor  lady  found  that  the  sands  of  life  were  so 
near  run  out  she  dispatched  Leah  after  Murdoch.  When 


226 


T  HE    N  I  G  H  T    WAT  C  H  . 


he  came,  he  approached  the  bedside  of  his  dying  friend 
with  a  bowed  head  and  broken  heart.  She  had  been  almost 
the  only  friend  the  youth  had  ever  known.  She  had  assisted 
him  in  all  ways;  sometimes  by  loans  of  money,  or  presents 
of  clothing ;  in  short,  she  was  his  benefactress.  She  had 
afforded  him  the  facilities  of  getting  an  education  sufficient 
to  enable  him  to  embrace  any  reputable  calling,  either  in 
the  mechanic  arts,  or  in  commerce.  But  he  had  no 
patrons  who  could  or  would  help  him  on  to  promotion. 
He,  therefore,  became  what  we  have  seen,  the  guardian 
of  the  downy  or  thorny  pillows,  as  the  case  may  be,  of 
the  luxurious  and  wealthy  citizens  of  the  city  of  . 

The  "  Night  Watch"  was  an  orphan,  the  offspring  of  a 
Jew  father  and  Christian  mother.  This  alliance  (pro- 
hibited in  the  synagogue)  brought  much  sorrow  and 
annoyance  to  the  parties  ;  but  it  was  a  match  of  affection; 
so  they  endured  all  things  patiently  unto  the  end.  Both 
parents  died  suddenly;  the  last  induced  by  grief  for  the 
loss  of  the  first.  After  this,  Murdoch  became  almost  an 
inmate  of  the  house  of  Mrs.  Nathan ;  having  been  con- 
signed to  her  care  by  his  dying  mother. 

He  had  by  nature  ardent  feelings  ;  an  idolatrous  love 
for  the  beautiful  (female  beauty)  was  the  first  sensation 
which  made  itself  comprehensible  to  his  young  mind. 
Mrs.  Nathan  was  exceedingly  beautiful  and  fascinating ; 
and  the  boy,  youth,  and  man,  had  accustomed  himself  to 
look  up  to  her  as  a  superior  being.  His  feelings  for  her 
were  those  of  adoration.  Eachel  saw  this  with  regret ; 
but  hoped  he  would  transfer  this  affection,  with  some 
mitigation,  to  her  second  self,  her  daughter  Leah.  But  as 
yet  she  had  witnessed  nothing  to  encourage  her.  She  had 
not  seen  one  look  of  admiration,  or  one  demonstration  of 
regard  other  than  such  as  would  move  the  pure  heart  of  a 
brother  toward  a  good,  gentle  little  sister.  He  loved  Mrs. 
Nathan,  who  was  still  a  very  young  woman,  and  for  the 
present,  this  passion  was  sufficient  to  fill  all  the  interstices 


THE     NIGHT    WATCH.  227 

of  his  huge  heart.  Leah,  she  knew,  would  be  beautiful 
when  matured  ;  she  had  also  seen,  for  some  time,  that  her 
child  loved  the  orphan  boy  with  all  the  fervor  and 
enthusiasm  which  belonged  to  her  oriental  blood. 

Rachel  had  studied  the  temper  and  heart  of  her  foster 
son  ;  maybe  to  check  the  unholy  passion  she  saw  there 
for  herself ;  maybe  for  something  else;  but  she  learned 
that  much  of  his  devotion  was  induced  by  the  mystery 
thrown  around  her,  and  that  it  was  strengthened  by  the 
insuperable  barrier  between  them,  preventing  his  too 
vclose  approximation.  She  knew  also,  that  familiarity  and 
easy  access,  would  interrupt  the  growth  of  love  on  his 
part;  while  that  of  poor  Leah  would  expand  and  ripen  to 
her  own  detriment.  Hence  the  solemn  injunction  which 
is  presently  laid  upon  the  girl. 

When  Murdoch  drew  near,  and  found  that  death  had 
set  his  signet  on  that  noble  countenance,  he  threw  himself 
on  his  knees,  and  for  a  few  moments  indulged  the  wildest 
grief.  The  patient,  feeling  that  her  sands  were  numbered, 
looked  at  him  with  a  face  full  of  anxiety.  She  placed  the 
hand  of  Leah  within  his,  and  with  a  look  of  ineffable 
love,  faintly  whispered  —  u  May  the  blessings  of  the  God 
of  our  people  be  upon  you  and  abide  with  you,  my 
children !  " 

Murdoch  rushed  from  the  room.  When  the  mother  and 
daughter  were  left  alone,  she  made  Leah  comprehend 
that  she  had  something  of  importance  still  to  say,  and 
asked  for  an  exciting  potion.  After  she  had  swallowed  it, 
the  feeble  ray  of  life  gleamed  up  for  a  moment,  and 
raising  herself,  she  said  in  a  low  whisper, 

M  Come  hither,  child.  Now  listen  carefully.  Leah,  you 
have  never  disobeyed  me  during  your  life  ?  "  She  paused 
for  an  answer. 

The  girl  fell  on  her  knees,  and  sobbed  out,  "  O  my 
mother!  how  could  I?  Thou  never  didst  do  wrong." 


228  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

"  Then,  my  love,  promise  me  without  question*  that  you 
will  obey  my  dying  injunction." 

"  With  my  life  will  I  obey  thee,  my  sainted  mother." 

"  You  will,  Leah,  from  this  hour,  veil  yourself  closely, 
and  never  at  any  time,  or  under  any  circumstances,  suffer 
the  good  Murdoch  to  look  upon  your  features  ;  or  caress 
you,  or  even  touch  your  hand ;  but  hide  your  face  from 
him,  and  envelop  yourself  in  profound  mystery  for  the 
space  of  three  years;  not  abating  one  moment  of  the  time. 
It  is  half  past  eleven  o'clock.  Three  years  from  this 
moment,  my  beloved  and  dutiful  child,  you  shall  be 
absolved  from  this  oath ;  and  your  mother's  spirit  will 
hover  near  you  to  do  you  good.  Eemember  the  hour  and 
the  moment.  My  daughter,  spare  your  father's  grey  hairs, 
and  as  much  as  in  you  lies,  smooth  his  passage  to  the 
grave.  Now  call  him  and  your  sister ;  but  first  embrace 
me,  my  love." 

When  the  husband  and  child  came  in,  she  took  an  affec- 
tionate, but  calm  leave  of  them ;  folded  her  arms,  closed 
her  eyes,  and  fell  asleep,  not  in  Jesus,  I  presume — for 
this  promise  is  only  to  Christians  —  but  that  pure  soul 
winged  its  way  back  to  him  who  gave  it,  and  has  I  hope 
found  a  resting-place  in  father  Abraham's  bosom. 

This  has  been  a  tedious  digression ;  but  we  deemed  it 
necessary,  in  order  to  explain  and  extenuate  the  seeming 
infatuation  of  the  gentle  and  refined  Leah  for  the  appa- 
rently rough-natured  Murdoch. 

The  girl,  as  has  been  before  stated,  remained  with  her 
ear  to  the  wall  until  she  had  learned  all  she  wished  ;  then 
she  stole  softly  to  her  room,  enveloped  herself  closely  in 
her  wrappings,  and  returning  sat  down  near  the  same  spot 
until  her  father  should  leave  the  house.  She  heard  his 
soliloquy,  wherein  he  had  accused  her  of  treachery ;  she 
also  heard  him  touch  the  counter-spring  (as  he  called  it) 
and  chuckle  over  the  thought,  that  he  had  put  it  beyond 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


229 


her  power  to  thwart  his  diabolical  enterprise.  All  this 
she  did  not  regard,  but  she  was  in  agony  lest  she  should 
be  foiled  in  her  efforts  to  meet  Murdoch  in  time  to  make 
him  set  the  watch  near  the  hovel. 

While  she  sat  on  the  floor,  her  head  against  the  panel, 
she  heard  her  father  exclaim  ;  "  Oh,  oh,  oh  !  It  is  just 
three  years  dis  day  sence  my  poor,  dear  Kachel  was 
gathered  to  her  peoplesh  ;  "  and  she  could  hear  him  beat 
his  breast. 

The  girl  commenced  a  rapid  computation  of  time,  and 
finding  it  was  even  as  the  old  man  said,  drojyped  her  head 
on  her  breast,  and  wept  in  silence. 

The  miser  at  last  leaves  the  room  ;  then  Leah  also  stole 
out,  taking  her  way  toward  the  covered  bridge:  wThere 
she  waited  full  an  hour  before  Murdoch  made  his  appear- 
ance, in  company,  as  has  been  stated,  with  Col.  Murray. 

When  they  had  again  sought  the  bridge,  she  revealed 
to  him  as  succinctly  as  she  could,  the  discovered  plot,  w^ith 
her  intention  to  save  the  poor  lady  and  her  family. 

"  Now,  dear  Murdoch,  thou  hast  not,  I  hope,  forgotten 
the  road  to  our  house  ?  Thou  knowest  the  way  to  the 
spiral  steps,  then  force  the  door,  if  it  be  fast,  and  enter 
quickly.  I  will  see  thee  by  twelve  o'clock,  but  not  before 
half  past  eleven." 

When  he  would  have  taken  her  to  his  manly,  affection- 
ate bosom,  she  stepped  aside,  eluding  him,  as  she  had 
never  failed  to  do  for  three  years,  and  said,  "  The  time 
will  soon  come,  Murdoch  ;  my  probation  will  end  in  a  few 
hours,  then  I  can  without  sin  suffer  myself  to  be  folded  to 
the  breast  of  my  foster  brother,  as  in  my  childhood. 


230 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    GOOD  WIFE. 

"  How  few,  like  thee,  inquire  the  wretched  out, 
And  court  the  offices  of  soft  humanity  ! 
Like  thee,  reserve  their  raiment  for  the  naked, 
Reach  out  their  bread  to  feed  the  crying  orphan, 
Or  mix  the  pitying  tear  with  those  that  weep/' 

Dear,  sensible,  and  I  hope  obliging  reader,  let  your 
imagination  spread  her  wings,  and  with  me  keep  pace 
with  the  old  scythe-man  for  one  year,  including  the  alter- 
nations of  time  and  season.  Another  winter  has  come 
and  gone,  without  any  of  the  traces  which  the  stern  hoary- 
headed  traveler  usually  leaves  in  the  track  of  his  ruthless 
strides.  There  were  changes,  but  not  such  as  are  painful 
to  contemplate  or  recount. 

Good  Doctor  Brown  and  dear  little  Minny  are  married. 
They  live  together  most  happily  in  a  pretty  cottage  with 
charming  verandahs.  The  aged  grandam,  as  we  were 
ever  pleased  to  hear  the  little  woman  call  her,  is  installed 
in  one  of  the  best  rooms.  All  the  familiar  objects  which 
had  made  that  little  old  back  room  so  agreeable  to  her, 
everything  she  prized,  whether  for  association  or  con- 
venience, had  been  transferred  to  this  room;  so  that  the  j 
old  lady  scarce  felt  the  change.  Her  milk-white  hair 
reposes  as  smoothly  beneath  the  little  snowy  cap  as  ever; 
her  fine  cambric  kerchief  is  folded  as  primly  over  the  sil- 
ver-grey luster  dress  as  for  the  last  fifty  years,  and  she  j 
herself  is  just  as  happy  and  querulous  as  when  we  met 
her  first.    That  good  little  granddaughter  has  so  smoothed  ! 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


231 


the  declivity  that  the  gentle  downward  passage  is  not 
felt. 

Minny  is  looking  prettier  and  somewhat  stouter,  is  as 
ever  full  of  kind  feelings  and  active  benevolence.  She  is 
always  on  the  qui  vive  to  do  somebody  some  good.  Day 
by  day  her  face  beams  with  happiness,  and  she  as  regu- 
larly sends  up  a  fervent  prayer  of  gratitude  to  God  for 
the  means  afforded  her  to  manifest  her  love  to  His  crea- 
tures. And  Gabriel,  "dear  Gabe,"  is  he  happy?  Can 
you  doubt  it  ?  Let  that  elastic  step,  as  he  bounds  along 
on  his  way,  fulfilling .  his  professional  duties,  answer. 
That  fresh,  hale  countenance,  that  calm,  untroubled,  blue 
eye,  twinkling  and  merry,  that  genial  smile,  what  tale  do 
they  tell  ?  And  then  that  nicely  brushed  black  coat,  the 
snowy  plaits  of  the  shirt  bosom ;  but  above  all,  those 
much  improved  sandy  locks,  which  a  year  ago  were  so 
carroty  and  elfin,  do  they  not  testify  to  the  presence  of 
some  busy,  thrifty,  loving  little  body?  Ah  yes  !  w^ould 
that  the  world  were  full  of  little  Minny s,  for  the  sake  of 
all  forlorn  little  Gabriels. 

The  girl  has  carried  her  own  sunshine  into  that  house, 
as  she  does  everywhere.  Whenever  she  appears,  dark 
places  become  luminous,  and  crooked  ways  straight.  O 
Minny,  thou  art  a  second  little  Dot,  and  when  we  have 
said  this,  we  can  pronounce  no  higher  praise.  Like  Dot, 
Minny  has  a  little  baby,  and  "just  like  its  father,"  all  the 
clever  ones  exclaim,  as  from  time  immemorial.  But  this 
time,  as  generally,  the  verdict  is  false ;  for  the  little  baby 
girl,  the  little  Myra,  is  just  like  her  pretty  little  mother. 

When  Minny  was  married,  and  left  her  humble  home 
to  occupy  a  better  one,  she  installed  Lucy  May  in 
the  toy-shop,  placing  with  her  for  company  and  assist- 
ance an  orphan  child,  whom  she  had  found  weeping 
in  the  street  on  her  wedding  day,  as  she  passed  from 
church  to  her  new  home.     So  she  commemorated  this 


232 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


event  by  an  action  which,  if  angels  are  permitted  to  review 
scenes  in  this  world,  must  have  caused  joy  in  heaven. 

They  were  dashing  on  in  a  very  fine  "  turn  out,"  accom- 
panied by  a  few  of  the  Doctor's  particular  friends,  when 
Minny  descried  a  child  in  the  street,  who  looked  lonely 
and  miserable.  She  instantly  pulled  the  check-string, 
and  with  much  earnestness  explained  to  her  husband  that 
she  wished  to  alight  for  a  moment,  that  she  might  speak 
to  the  child.  Gabriel's  face  flushed,  and  looking  up  at  his 
friends  he  could  see  that  they  were  surprised,  and  he 
thought  he  detected  a  smile  of  derision  on  their  fashiona- 
ble faces ;  therefore  the  sensitive  little  man  commenced  a 
remonstrance. 

"  Ah  hist  !  dinna  fash  !  dinna  fash  !  I  will  not  detain 
ye  lang ;  but  I  must  speak  to  the  puir  suffering  bairn." 

He  was  about  to  utter  a  rejoinder,  when  she  put  her 
mouth  to  the  trumpet  and  ordered  the  coachman  to  stop 
and  open  the  door.  Then  with  the  most  bewitching 
naivete,  said,  "  Ah  Gabe  !  I  know  ye  too  well !  Ye  wad 
na  see  the  puir  little  chiel  perish  in  the  street,  amang  the 
gay  and  grand  folks,  on  your  happy  wedding  day." 

He  said  no  more,  but  jumped  out  and  handed  his  wife 
from  the  carriage.  The  child  at  the  time  could  give  no 
account  of  herself.  She  was  sick ;  a  fever  raged  in  her 
blood,  and  she  seemed  stupified  from  pain.  Doctor  Brown 
saw  that  she  would  indeed  die  if  left  there.  At  Minny's 
request,  he  lifted  her  into  the  carriage,  and  they  drove  on. 

They  nursed  the  sick  child  through  a  long  and  severe 
illness.  When  she  had  entirely  recovered  she  was  placed 
as  stated,  with  Lucy  May.  They  had  adopted  and  given 
her  their  name  —  they  called  her  Jennie  Brown. 

Minny,  with  the  sanction  of  the  Doctor,  invited  Myra 
and  her  grandmother  to  live  with  them. 

"No,  no,  Minny,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  God  only  knows 
howT  much  I  do  thank  you,  child  !    But  best  not ;  I  should 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


233 


die  of  idleness,  I  think  it  would  go  hard  with  me,  now, 
to  sit  down  and  hold  my  hands  in  a  friend's  house.  Let 
us  have  a  place  of  our  own,  even  if  it  is  a  shanty" 

Minny  comprehended  fully  the  feeling,  and  urged  them 
no  further.  On  their  way  home  she  was  sad  and  silent ; 
then  rousing  up  she  said,  u  Aweel,  dear  husband,  I  dinna 
think  I  can  ever  sleep  mair  in  my  nice  bonny  home,  while 
puir  Myra  an'  the  auld  lady  are  in  sic  a  place.  They 
must  be  better  fixed,  else  I  shall  sleep  wi'  my  een  wide 
open,  all  my  days.  Choose  now,  gude  man,  atween 
the  twa." 

The  Doctor  laughed,  and  came  near  forgetting  himself 
so  far  as  to  embrace  his  little  wife  on  the  street. 

Just  then  the  Jew  came  walking  up  —  not  creeping : 
M  Good  morning,  sir,  said  the  Doctor.  "  Is  any  one  occu- 
pying that  neat,  cottage-looking  house,  over  the  way, 
yonder? " 

u  Which  one?"  said  Mr.  Nathan,  the  Jew  clothing 
merchant. 

tl  The  one  with  latticed  windows." 

"No,  der  is  nobody  living  dere,  now." 

"  When  is  your  rent  due  from  Mrs.  Wise." 

"  It  is  due  now,  dis  very  hour.  I  is  on  my  way  dere 
to  git  it." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Nathan,  propose  to  Mrs.  Wise  to  take  the 
cottage." 

u  Oh  !  oh  !  mine  Got !  It  is  too  much  more  monish  dan 
she  will  be  able  to  pay  me." 

" Never  mind  that,  sir.  Do  as  I  have  requested;  and 
when  her  means  fail,  I  will  make  up  the  deficit." 

In  an  instant  he  whipped  out  a  little  ink-horn  from  his 
pocket,  and  a  scrap  of  paper,  saying,  "  Write,  wrrite." 
The  Doctor  gave  him  the  note,  and  passed  on. 

The  next  day  saw  Minny  as  busy  as  the  busiest  of  all 
busy  things  —  a  hen  with  one  chicken  —  arranging  the  cot- 
tage for  her  friends.  The  day  after  sees  them  domiciled 
20 


234 


T  H  E     NIGH  T    W  A  T  C  H 


as  if  they  had  lived  there  all  their  lives.  Thanks  now 
to  little  Minny  Brown. 

Clarence  is  charmed  with  the  exchange.  His  salary, 
and  the  donations  to  him  from  the  patrons  of  the  drama, 
have  all  been  given  as  glad  offerings  to  his  mother  and 
grandmother.  His  little  heart  swells  with  pride,  and  feels 
too  big  for  his  little  body,  when  he  thinks  that  he  sup- 
ports his  parents — "  his  family" 

The  golden-haired,  sunny-faced, beautiful  boy  has  grown 
some,  and  is  greatly  improved.  Mr.  Gooch  has  watched 
over  and  guarded  him,  as  if  he  were  the  apple  of  his  eye. 


Col.  Murray  lingered  long  in  his  sick  room,  vacillating 
between  life  and  death.  A  fever  succeeded  to  the  disas- 
trous events  of  that  night;  not  so  much  from  the  wound, 
as  the  disordered  state  of  his  nervous  system,  and  the  dis- 
tracted state  of  his  mind.  The  wild  hopes  which  he  had 
for  one  brief  half-hour  suffered  to  spring  up  in  his  breast, 
with  their  sudden  overthrow,  were  more  than  his  excita- 
ble nature  could  endure.  There  were  many  alternations, 
and  it  was  a  matter  of  great  uncertainty  whether  he 
would  ever  arise  from  that  bed  ;  or  if  he  did,  whether  his 
mind  would  recover  its  equipoise. 

To-day  he  has  awakened  from  a  long  obliviousness. 
Looking  around,  for  the  first  time  for  many  weary  months, 
he  seems  to  be  conscious  of  what  is  passing  in  the  room. 
He  speaks  very  feebly  : 

"James,  where  is  my  daughter?" 

"  Oh  !  thank  God,  master  !  I  am  so  rejoiced  to  see  you 
sensible  once  more.  I  thank  the  Lord  for  that,  anvhow;" 
and  the  negro  began  to  weep. 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  James,  my  good  boy ; 
but  I  hope  you  do  not  expect  or  require  me  to  cry, 
too?" 

"  Lor !  no,  sir;  but  we  never  did  expect  to  see  you  look 


THE     NIG  H  T    WATCH.  235 

so  natural-like  and  sensible  any  more.  So  I  couldn't  help 
crying  for  joy.  Hope  you  will  excuse  the  liberty,  Mas'r 
Charles?" 

"  Certainly.  But  James,  who  has  been  here  during  my 
illness?" 

"  Oh,  Lors  a  marcy  !  everybody  on  God's  yarth." 

"  That  will  do,  James.  Go  and  tell  Tivvy  to  come  in 
and  brinfir  the  child." 

When  the  little  Genevieve  came,  she  seemed  to  under- 
stand at  a  glance  that  her  father  wras  better.  She  clapped 
her  hands  and  shouted,  and  sprang  upon  the  bed,  and 
literally  stopped  his  breath  with  caresses. 

"  Oh  !  dear,  dear  papa  !  we  thought  you  were  going  to 
die,  and  papa,  that  pretty  lady  "  

"  Hush,"  said  Tivvy ;  and  he  saw  the  maid  squeeze  the 
child's  arm. 

"  Poor  cousin  Gerty  cried  her  eyes  out,  when  that 
pretty  la  "  

"Come,  honey,  let's  go,"  said  Tivvy,  taking  up  the 
child. 

"  Put  her  down,"  said  Murray.  "Go  on,  daughter; 
what  is  it?  " 

"Papa,  I  think  you  ought  to  love  cousin  Gcrtudc." 
"What  for,  my  love?" 

"  Because  she  loves  you  so  much,  and  grandma  says 
she  is  s-o  r-i-c-h.  Papa  please  marry  cousin  Gerty,"  said 
she,  kissing  her  father.    "Won't  you,  dear  papa  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  papa  to  marry  her,  my  darling?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  reckon  so." 

Then  she  put  her  little  ruby  lips  to  his  ear,  and  whis- 
pered very  softly  :  "  Tivvy  says,  cousin  Gertrude  is  almost 
dead  to  marry  you,  and  that  she  will  die  soon,  if  you  don't 
let  her." 

Murray  gave  Tivvy  a  black  look,  and  continued  to 
frown.    The  child  tried  to  wipe  off  with  her  handker- 


236 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


chief,  those  disfiguring  signs  of  vexation,  while  Tivvy,  in 
great  embarrassment  and  some  alarm,  adds  : 

"Lors  !  Now,  Miss  Yevy,  I  didn't  do  no  sich  a  thing, 
now." 

"You  did#  Tivvy.    I  heard  you  tell  uncle  Jim  so;  and 
you  said  you  knew  it,  ^ecause  she  used  to  steal  in  here, 
when  papa  w^s  out  of  his  senses,  and  kiss  him,  and  kneel 
down  by  him,  and  cry,  and  all  that." 

"  That  will  do",  my  love  ;  come  run  away  to  the  gov- 
erness. Tivv}^,  I  wish  to  speak  to  you,  and  when  you 
have  carried  the  child,  return  immediately  ." 

Tivvy  locked  worried.  "  Lor  !  Mas'r  Conrad,  what 
does  you  wa*nt?  I'm  so  busy;  won't  Jim  do?  " 

"  Tivvy,  you  have  forgotten  yourself.  Do  you  dare 
debate  whether  you  will  obey  me  or  not?  " 

"No, 'sir-,"  said  the  maid;  and  taking  up  the  child,  hur- 
ried out.  *  * 

"  When  they  had  gone,  Murray  sighed  and  exclaimed.,, 
"  Poor  Gertrude  !  I  wish  to  God  I  could  provoke  her  to 
discard  me.  I  would  very  meekly  submit  to  the  sentence 
of  banishment.  Aye  !  most  gladly ;  but  think  of  it,  she 
is  a  most  magnificent  creature !  Well,  the  truth  is,  I  do 
believe  I  am  a  brute,  as  my  mother  once  said."  This  con- 
demnatory soliloquy  was  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
Tivvy. 

"  Take  that  seat  there,  right  before  me ;  now  tell  me, 
Tivvy,  if  you  can  lie  as  adroitly  as  ever?" 

The  girl  was  so  astonished  at  being  made  to  sit  in  the 
presence  of  her  master,  and  so  frightened  by  his  lowering 
looks,  that*  she  did  not  really  hear,  see,  or  heed.  So 
when  Murray  repeated  that  question,  she  answered,  with 
vacant  stare, 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  So  I  presume.    Are  you  sure  you  have  not  improved 
by  practice?" 


THE     N  I  Gr  H  T    W  A  T  C  I  I . 


237 


u  O  Lors  !  Mas'r  Charlie,  I  aint  hard  a  word  you  said." 
M  I  asked  you  if  you  could  lie  as  smartly  as  ever ?  " 
jj    "  No,  sir,  not  quite." 

I  "  Now,  Tivvy,  I  shall  ask  you  a  few  questions,  and  if 
you  have  a  spark  of  truth  in  you,  I  warn  you  to  let  it 
out,  or  I  will  crush  it  out ;  as  weak  as  you  may  think  me 
I  can  still  manage  you.  " 

"Oh,  poor  Mas'r  Conrad  is  gwine  out  of  his  senses 
agin !  " 

She  seemed  to  be  preparing  to  scream  out,  but  a  men- 
acing look  from  her  master  threw  her  back  in  her 
chair,  and  made  her  as  mute  as  if  she  had  been  tongue- 
less.  For  a  moment  the  sick  man  looked  at  her  cower- 
ing, frightened  appearance,  and  bit  his  lip  to  suppress  a 
smile  ;  then  said,  in  a  half  stern,  have  jocular  voice  : 

"  Well,  then,  I  didn't  mean  to  scare  you  to  death  quite. 
Tivvy,  when  I  was  ill,  and  you  had  all  given  me  up  to 
die  —  when  I  could  not  speak,  and  you  believed  I  could 
not  see  —  I  thought  then,  girl —  or  I  dreamed  it — that  I  saw 
as  plainly  as  I  see  you  now,  my  poor,  lost  Marianna,  stand- 
ing by  my  bedside.  She  was  weeping  bitterly,  and 
wringing  her  hands  ;  and  then,  oh !  then  (methinks  I  feel 
them  yet ;  so  dewy  and  refreshing  were  they  to  my 
parched  soul),  ever  and  anon,  she  would  stoop  down  and 
imprint  a  long,  fervent  kiss  on  my  ^or,  dried  lips.  She 
was  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and  looked  so  sad,  so 
despairing.  She  called  me  dear  cousin  —  dear  Conrad  — 
dear,  dear  Charlie.  Then  the  scene  changed,  and  she 
called  me  brother,  and  grew  cold  and  reserved —  seemed  to 
shudder  and  shrink  from  me  ;  which  made  me  so  wretched 
that  I  thought  I  died,  and  only  came  to  life  a  few  hours 
ago.  Now  you  are  to  tell  me  every  word  about  this, 
Tivvy,  as  you  hope  for  any  good  fortune  or  happiness  in 
this  world  or  the  next.  I  command  you  to  tell  me  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth.  You  had  better  not  provoke  me, 
girl."' 


238 


T  H  E    N  I  G  H  T    W  ATCH. 


Tivvy  clasped  her  hands  together,  rolled  up  her  eyes 
until  you  could  only  see  the  whites,  and  falling  on  her 

knees,  says : 

"How,  Mas'r  Charles,  I'm  gwine  to  tell  the  truth,  same 
as  if  I  was  in  the  judgment  at  the  last  day  of  the  world. 

"  Go  on,"  says  Murray,  with  great  trepidation,  "speak." 

"  Well,  Mas'r  Charles  Conrad  Murray,  I  takes  the  Lord 
of  Hosties  to  witness,  that  what  I  say  is  the  fact,  the  whole 
fact,  and  nothing  but  "  

"  Go  on,"  shouted  Murray,  quite  carried  away  by  impa- 
tience. 

"  To  witness,"  says  Tivvy,  in  a  subdued  tone,  "  that  I 
does  believe  from  the  bottom  and  incesses  of  my  heart 
and  soul,  that — that  you  w-a-s  a  dreaming." 

With  a  quick  movement,  and  an  angry,  disappointed 
look,  he  gave  her  a  violent  push,  which  threw  her  sprawl- 
ing on  the  floor  backward. 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Doctor  Gabriel  Brown 
entered.  He  stopped  suddenly,  exclaiming  with  great 
glee,  "  Hoity  toity  !  What's  all  this  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  he ! 
he !  ho  !  ha  !  "  and  he  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down 
his  plump,  ruddy  cheeks.  "  Well,  this  is  the  best  joke  I've 
got  on  you,  Conrad." 

"  Sir,  you  are  mistaken  ;  it's  no  joke,  and  I'm  in  no 
mood  to  be  laughed  at.  Get  up  there,  Tivvy,  and  take 
yourself  oft\" 

The  girl  rose  with  alacrity,  and  as  she  left,  was  heard 
to  giggle.  This  for  an  instant  seemed  to  enrage  the  sick 
man,  and  he  commanded  Brown,  in  a  very  authoritative 
voice,  to  call  her  back  and  hand  him  his  cane. 

"  Pshaw  !  Nonsense  !  Why,  man,  you  are  getting  well 
too  fast.  I  must  give  you  something  to  put  you  back  a 
bit.  Lie  down,  sir,  lie  down,"  said  he  as  he  felt  his 
pulse. 

Finding  him  much  excited,  and  looking  almost  ill  again, 
he  proceeded  to  prepare  a  draught  for  him,  but  when  he 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  239 

turned  to  administer  it,  he  found  him  sitting  up  in  bed, 
I  looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  galvanized  corpse. 

"  Lie  down,  sir,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  very  determined 
■poice. 

"  I  will  not ;  I  am  a  free  man.  How  dare  you  speak  to 
a  white  man  in  that  way  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  my  patient.  I  am  responsible  to 
your  friends  for  your  well-being ;  besides,  you  are  under 
my  control,  and  in  my  power.  Now,  Murray,  if  you  do 
not  drink  this  anodyne  and  lie  down  quietly,  like  a  decent 
sick  man  should  do,  I'll  be  blamed  if  I  don't  knock  you 
down  ;  so  that's  the  long  and  short,  and  whole  upshot  of 
the  matter." 

Being  very  weary  now,  and  much  exhausted  by  the 
agitation  of  the  last  half-hour,  he  was  content  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  good  little  doctor. 

Presently  he  grew  composed,  and  begged  his  friend  to 
listen  to  him,  while  he  related  minutely  what  had  passed 
between  himself  and  Tivvy,  imploring  him  to  speak. 

The  doctor  grew  thoughtful,  then  moody,  and  at  last 
answered  the  poor,  enthusiastic,  half-demented  sick  man : 
"  Well,  Murray,  I  must  think,  with  Tivvy,  that  you  did 
dream  a  great  deal  daring  that  long  slumber  of  the  men- 
tal faculties,  that  midnight  of  the  mind." 

"  Doctor,  I  did  not  dream  then.  My  mind  was  not  dark 
at  that  moment,  as  you  think.  I  tell  you,  I  saw  my  lost 
bride,  my  long-loved  Marianna.  I  felt,  and  do  yet  feel, 
her  dewy  kisses  on  my  lips.  It  was  that  heavenly  mois- 
ture falling  on  the  arid  soil  of  my  soul,  which  revived  it, 
and  caused  verdure  to  spring  up.  You  need  not  shake 
your  head  ;  I  am  sane  now.  I  have  not  forgotten  either. 
Would  the  fainting  wretch  who  had  traversed  the  desert 
for  many  days  without  refreshment,  forget  the  cup  of  cool 
water  which  he  had  unexpectedly  received?  Well,  as 
that  cup  would  be  to  the  parched,  cracked  lips  of  the  poor 
perishing  wayfarer  in  the  wilderness,  so  was  that  first  kiss 


240 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


to  my  withered  soul.  I  fainted  no  more.  I  could  not  die 
then  ;  "hut  Oh  !  I  thirst  again  for  that  cup.  Gods !  how 
my  soul  pines  and  my  heart  yearns  for  a  few  more  drops 
even  of  that,  th-a-t,  t-h-a-t  d-e-w-y  cup."    He  falls  asleep. 

Doctor  Brown  sat  watching  him  for  some  time,  with  his 
fingers  on  his  pulse.  He  smiled  placidly  as  he  slept,  and 
still  murmured,  "that  dewy  cup." 

"  Poor  fellow !  With  all  our  boasted  knowledge,  we 
know  nothing.  We  all  thought  him  dying  that  night,  six 
of  us.  Six  doctors  (I  wonder  it  didn't  kill  him)  exhausted 
their  skill,  and  threw  up ;  then  he  was  saved  by  one  woman, 
and  in  the  simplest  and  most  natural  way  —  a  kiss  !  Well, 
I'll  be  blamed  if  I  don't  think  it  is  enough  to  bring  a  fel- 
low back  to  life.  They  will  either  kill  or  cure,  that's 
certain." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  when  James  entered,  he  told  him 
his  master  must  be  kept  very  quiet.  Every  person,  and 
every  subject  of  an  exciting  nature  must  be  kept  from 
him. 

u  Yes,  sir,  but  Miss  Lindsay  has  been  here  waiting  for 
several  hours  to  come  in  ;  but  I  guess  the  sight  o'  Miss 
Guttrude  will  not  excite  any  great  commotions  in  Mas'r 
Charles'  heart." 

The  doctor  smiled  and  left. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


241 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    GOVERNOR'S  LEVEE. 

14  The  house  was  an  inn,  where  all  were  feasted  and  welcomed." 

11  Hath  wine  an  oblivious  power  ? 

Can  it  pluck  out  the  sting  from  the  brain  ? 
The  draught  might  beguile  for  an  hour, 
But  still  leave  behind  it  the  pain." 

Nature  has  again  unveiled  her  bright,  smiling  face, 
and  as  if  the  more  to  fascinate  her  lovers,  she  has  cast  off 
her  mantle  of  hoar  frost,  murky  clouds,  and  occasional 
robe  of  beautiful  snow  wreaths,  and  arrayed  herself  in  all 
her  glory  of  light  green,  diversified  by  all  the  tints  of  the 
rainbow.  Yet  is  she  still  a  coy  belle,  coquetting  skittishly 
With  her  adorers.  Now  smiling  so  sweetly  and  brightly, 
then  veiling  her  face,  and  anon,  in  sheer  exuberance  of 
gladness,  weeps.  It  is  spring,  the  season  for  such  vaga- 
ries —  the  charming  month  of  May,  about  the  end,  and 
near  the  close  of  day.  Light  clouds  are  chasing  each 
other  over  the  soft  cerulean  expanse,  and  a  balmy  breeze 
has  sprung  up,  cool  and  refreshing.  The  goddess  herself, 
and  all  her  myriad  train,  are  breathing  forth  the  incense 
of  adoration  to  their  Creator. 

The  flowers,  at  this  vesper  hour,  are  exhaling  their 
sweetest  perfumes  to  honor  Him.  The  little  birds,  hop- 
ping from  spray  to  spray,  and  chirping  merrily ;  the  chor- 
isters in  the  grove  who  open  their  throats  and  melody 
gushes  out,  do  hymn  forth  His  praise,  and  rejoice  in  their 
existence.  Even  the  insect  world,  the  poor  beetle,  the 
cricket  on  the  hearth,  and  every  beast  and  creeping  thing, 
21 


242 


T  II  E     N  J  G  11  T    W  ATCH. 


in  the  exercise  of  their  peculiar  functions,  do  but  furnish 
testimonials  of  the  declarative  glory  of  God.  All  things 
seem  to  join  in  this  silent,  harmonious  tribute  of  praise. 
The  earth  seems  one  vast  altar,  and  the  universe  a  mighty 
temple,  to  declare  the  glory  of  its  maker,  and  to  show 
forth  His  handy-work  on  this  sweet  spring  evening,  this 
holy  vesper  hour.  Only  man,  he  alone,  made  in  the  image 
of  God,  is  ungrateful. 

A  tall  figure,  enveloped  in  a  shawl,  moves  slowly  along 
down  Market  street,  until  he  reaches  a  hovel.  Now  he 
takes  his  position  against  a  lamp-post,  and  commences  to 
scrutinize  the  premises.  All  things  remain  as  they  were. 
There  hangs  the  same  old  blue  curtain,  with  the  rent  in 
the  center — but  the  season  is  changed,  and  there  is  no 
ruddy  firelight  gleaming  through,  thereby  revealing  what 
is  passing  within.  He  steps  forward,  and  with  great 
trepidation  gives  a  hurried  knock ;  another,  and  another 
succeeds  the  first,  with  even  more  impatience ;  but  alas  ! 
no  voice  issues  from  within,  bidding  him  enter. 

He  waits  a  moment  longer,  and  finding  all  so  still,  with 
a  disappointed  look  turns  away  and  walks  on  to  the  little 
toy-shop  and  raps.  An  interesting  lady  comes  to  the 
door  accompanied  by  a  bright,  happy-looking  child  —  a 
pretty  little  girl. 

"  Is  Miss  Minny  Dun  at  home?  " 

"No,  sir,"  answered  the  interesting  lady.  He  turned 
mournfully  off.  Before  Lucy  May  could  explain  a  word, 
he  is  retracing  his  steps,  but  turns  from  the  beaten  track 
and  wanders  about,  he  cares  not  whither. 

It  is  growing  late,  and  to  the  valetudinarian  the  air 
feels  chill  and  damp.  As  he  turns  his  steps  homeward  he 
hears  a  sweet,  bird-like  voice  call  "  Papa;"  turning  he 
meets  his  daughter,  and  Miss  Lindsay,  who  is  holding  the 
little  Genevieve  by  the  hand.  At  the  first  flush  he  was 
vexed  at  the  meeting ;  he  believed  the  beauty  had  pur- 
posely thrown  herself  in  the  way,  arrayed  as  she  was 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


243 


with  such  elaborate  care,  wTith  all  the  accessories  to  fas- 
cinate and  seduce.  He  was  almost  tempted  to  pass  her  by. 
But  Murray  was  a  gentleman,  although  now  a  willful,  way- 
ward one,  as  he  was  always  a  haughty  one.  He  would 
not,  nay,  he  could  not  treat  any  woman  rudely,  when 
from  under  the  domination  of  his  fierce  passions. 

So  when  the  little  girl  ran  to  him,  seized  his  hand  and 
kissed  it,  saying,  "Dear  papa,  Cousin  Gerty  and  I  walked 
out  to  seek  you.  Grandma  sent  us  to  see  where  you 
were,  and  what  you  were  doing  "  (Gertrude  blushed  crim- 
son); he  answered,  "  Did  you  my  love?  I  am  sure  I  ought 
to  be  very  much  obliged  to  you  both."  Then  he  offered 
his  arm  to  Gertrude,  and  taking  the  little  Genevieve  by 
the  hand,  they  proceeded  in  silence. 

There  was  a  subdued  manner  about  the  girl  this  eve- 
ning, in  her  tone  of  voice,  and  the  expression  of  her  face; 
her  haughtiness  seemed  chastened  down  to  something 
like  softness.  Murray  almost  admired  her,  and  I  imagine 
he  gave  an  intimation  of  this  by  some  secret  telegraphing, 
some  little  pressure  of  the  hand,  or  I  do  not  know  what, 
but  the  proud  lady  again  blushed  and  trembled.  He  saw 
and  felt  this  silent  token  of  his  power ;  and  it  is  not  in 
the  nature  of  man,  vain  man,  to  be  indifferent  to  such 
ovations. 

They  passed  the  Executive  Mansion,  whose  windows 
were  blazing  with  light,  and  there  was  an  unwonted  stir* 
about  the  place. 

"  What  is  going  on  there,  Gertrude?  " 

"  Why  Conrad  !    Is  it  possible  you  don't  know?  " 

"  I  do  not.  I  have  seen  nothing,  and  heard  nothing, 
for  half  a  century.  This  morning,  and  for  the  last  week, 
I  have  denied  myself  to  all  visitors,  pleading  ill  health, 
and  bad  feelings." 

"  The  Governor  is  at  home  this  evening,  and  receives  his 
friends  in  any  way  in  which  they  may  choose  to  present 


244 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


themselves  —  in  masquerade,  fancy-ball  dress,  or  as 
yourself." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  moment;  then  he  spoke 
quickly,  as  if  afraid  he  would  again  forget  it.  "  You  are 
going,  Gertrude?" 

"  '  Mirabile  dictu  ! '  I  have  no  escort.  This  is  grand 
reception  night,  and  Miss  Lindsay  has  no  beau.  Ah  me  !  " 

"Where  is  Mr.  Grain  es  ? "  asked  he  drily,  slightly 
smiling. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  beauty,  curtly  —  not  smil- 
ing at  all. 

Then  came  another  awkward  pause,  in  which  you  might 
have  heard  the  lady's  heart  beat,  had  there  been  space 
under  those  patent  corsets.  Then  he  asked  her  very 
quickly,  if  she  "  wished  to  go  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.    More  than  anything  in  the  world,"  said  she. 

"  Then  would  you  consent  to  lean  on  such  a  poor,  broken 
reed  as  I  am?  " 

"  Thank  you  ;  with  pleasure  ;  "  and  the  lady  evidenced 
too  much  of  it.  It  seemed  like  exultation  ;  and  it  grated 
on  Murray's  refined  and  over-fastidious  notions  of  female 
delicacy.  It  displeased  him.  There  was  in  truth  a  mani- 
fest elation  at  this  opportunity  of  being  seen  with  him 
in  public. 

As  they  parted  at  her  door,  he  said,  "  I  will  call  for  you 
in  my  carriage,  at  the  right  hour,"  touched  his  hat,  and 
he  and  the  little  girl  plodded  on  their  way  homeward. 

When  she  reached  her  room,  and  rung  for  her  maid, 
and  as  she  was  being  ministered  to  by  that  sable  com- 
pound of  cunning,  smartness,  and  duplicity,  she  continued 
to  grumble  : 

"  In  the  carriage  !  Aye  !  in  the  carriage  !  What  in  the 
fiend's  name  is  he  going  to  come  that  way  for  ?  I  wanted 
the  walk  with  him.  I  wanted  every  body  to  see  me  hang- 
ing on  his  arm." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


245 


1  I'll  tell  you,  Miss  Gutty,"  said  Ann,  "  I  tinks  I  knows, 
nigger  as  I  is." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Miss,  by  speaking  in  my  presence 
without  license?  But  speak  out  this  time,  and  mind  how 
you  presume  again.    Go  on,  I  say." 

"  Well  den.  He's  jest  gwine  to  carry  his  mother;  and 
she,  you  know,  will  come  all  apart  —  all  dem  patchwork 
will  fall  to  pieces,  ef  she  ebber  did  walk  dat  fur." 

"  ISTow  that  is  it,  I  do  expect.  I  don't  know  what  he 
wants  to  hang  all  them  scraps  and  shreds  on  his  arm 
for?  his  poor,  feeble  arm." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Gutty !  don't  talk  dat  way ;  'tis  sin.  She 
flesh  of  his  flesh,  and  bone  of  his  sinews  !  " 

"  I  suppose  then  he  will  have  to  wait  on  her,  hang  over 
her,  and  trail  round  the  room  with  her ;  and  I  shall  have 
to  promenade  with  Gaines,  or  some  other  stupid  fellow." 

"  Well :  Dis  nigger  don't  know  much  about  de  eat  de  cat 
of  dat  new  fashionable  Gubbernor's  house.  I  can't  say 
for  sartin.  But  I  tell  you,  Miss  Gutty,  what  I  do  summise, 
dat  he  won't  not  be  able  to  trot  round  (as  you  say)  noting, 
unless  it  be  in  a  cheer  or  sofa.  And  Miss  Gutty,  if  you  will 
take  the  advice  of  your  own  faithful  black  nigger  maiden, 
you'll  just  hang  yourself  on  the  tudder  side,  and  sit  still 
wid  his  mother  and  him;  'stead  o'  gallavanting  about  de 
floor.  Dat  will  be  de  purtiest,  and  de  familiarest,  and 
more  in  de  family -way  like,  to  sit  still  wid  him  any  how." 

"  Ann,  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  I  do  believe  I  will 
take  your  advice.  It  will  be  so  romantic  and  sentimental 
to  immolate  my  ambition  on  the  altar  of  affection." 

"  Well,  Miss  Gutty,  I  don't  not  know  what  you  means 
by  dem  high-fa-lutin  things  and  words ;  but  I  know  de 
street  door  did  ring  some  time  ago." 

A  servant  entered,  handed  a  card,  and  withdrew.  A 
few  words  are  scratched  carelessly  on  it  with  a  pencil. 
"  Mr.  Gaines  has  called  to  see  if  Miss  Lindsay  has  com- 
pany for  the  evening?" 


246 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  II  . 


u  Pshaw  !  I  thought  it  might  have  been  Conrad,  or 
somebody.    Bun,  Ann,  and  tell  him  I  am  provided." 

But  Ann  did  not  confine  herself  to  that  simple  mes- 
sage, but  told  him  everything  with  which  the  reader  is 
acquainted,  even  to  the  premeditated  walk  to  entrap  Mur- 
ray ;  and  detailed  minutely  the  preceding  dialogue  between 
herself  and  Mistress.  In  fact,  the  lady's  maid  kept  the 
lover  informed  from  day  to  day,  of  every  word  and  trans- 
action in  the  private  life  of  the  beauty.  She  assured  him, 
"  That  if  he  would  only  hold  on  £ faithful, '  that  he  would 
be  sure  to  get  her  at  last.  I  tell  you,  Mas'r  Josiah,  Col. 
Murray  and  Miss  Gutty  will  never  be  married.  'Taint  not 
his  destination,  and  he  don't  want  to  neither;  but  he  tries 
mighty  hard  to  do  it,  for  de  honor  of  his  sake;  but  he 
can't,  because  it  aint  not  his  destination." 

So  Gaines  believed,  and  he  never  wavered  in  his  faith  a 
moment.  He  had  resolved  on  it,  and  he  never  doubted 
but  that  he  should  ultimately  succeed  in  bearing  off  that 
great  prize  of  wealth  and  beauty.  He  had  loved  her  at 
first  with  a  pure,  disinterested  affection,  when  they  were 
much  younger.  Gaines  had  been  almost  bred  up  in  the 
house  of  his  benefactor,  Major  Lindsay ;  he  had  known 
Gertrude  all  his  life,  and  they  were  near  the  same  age  — 
she  though  being  the  elder. 

Yes,  he  loved  her  at  first  for  herself,  without  knowing 
that  she  was  an  heiress.  But  she  had  flirted  with  him, 
coquetted  him,  and  sometimes  lured  him  on  to  commit 
himself,  and  would  then  slight  and  maltreat  him  in  the 
presence  of  witnesses.  Still  a  sort  of  fatality  kept  him 
there :  and  now  ambition  to  be  the  husband  (he  Lind- 
say's second  clerk)  of  the  peerless  Miss  Lindsay,  and  a 
secret  desire  to  requite  her  treatment  to  him  when  he 
shall  have  gained  that  post,  are  the  best  feelings  and 
strongest  motives  which  actuated  him.  Yet  he  admires 
her  intensely;  he  is  charmed  with  her  appearance, 
and  enchanted  by  her  accomplishments.    Superadded  to 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


247 


this  is  a  vivid  recollection  of  that  fortune  of  a  half- 
million  of  dollars. 

When  Ann  has  concluded  her  communications,  he  smiles 
sardonically,  and  leaves  the  house.  Murray  calls  at  an 
early  hour  for  Gertrude  ;  informs  her  that  it  is  incumbent 
on  him  to  make  his  appearance  at  the  mansion  at  rather 
an  unseasonable  hour  for  such  an  ultra  fashionable  as 
herself;  that  he  being  one  of  the  Governor's  aids,  is  bound 
to  be  in  place. 

She  looks  dissatisfied,  and  frowns  involuntarily. 

M  I  can  not  help  it,  Gertrude.  You  know  at  this  time 
I  am  no  part  of  a  lady's  man,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  be  at 
the  side  of  the  Governor.  I  will  conduct  my  mother 
there,  and  send  Mr.  Gaines,  or  some  other  friend  for  you, 
perhaps  your  father." 

"  Oh  no.  I  shall  be  ready  in  a  moment,  and  much  pre- 
fer going  now  with  Aunt  Murray  and  yourself." 

She  found  that  in  the  indulgence  of  her  splenetic  feel- 
ings she  had  overreached  herself,  and  that  Col.  Murray 
was  not  Josiah  Gaines.  She  therefore  brightens  up  and 
declares  that  she  was  only  jesting,  and  would  not  detain 
them  a  second.  So  away  she  flies,  and  soon  returns 
enveloped  in  some  light  mazy  drapery,  which  throwing  a 
softening  influence  about  her,  brings  her  nearer  to  his 
"beau  ideal"  of  beauty  than  he  has  ever  before  thought 
her.  She  is  for  the  first  time,  to  his  eyes,  more  lovely  than 
handsome. 

On  arriving,  they  found  the  company  collecting  rapidly. 
Yet  it  is  quite  too  early  for  the  "leader  of  ton"  to  be 
seen.  So  she  hurries  to  the  cloak-room,  where  she  meant 
to  hide  until  the  proper  hour  should  arrive  for  her  to 
make  her  advent  among  the  admiring  throng.  Murray 
left  them  there.  On  going  down  he  received  a  note  from  the 
Governor,  requiring  his  immediate  presence  in  the  saloon. 

He  went  back  and  told  her  that  he  was  forced  to  the 
alternative  of  conducting  them  to  the  drawing-room  at 


248 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


once?  where  they  would  be  compelled  to  sit ;  or  to  wait 
there  in  the  dressing-room  until  the  reception  of  guests 
should  be  over.  This  would  have  been  crucifixion  to  the 
vanity  of  the  spoiled  girl.  To  be  seated  for  an  hour  or 
two  when  she  first  enters  a  drawing  room  !  Why  she 
would  get  a  back-set  from  which  she  could  not  recover 
during  the  whole  evening.  Therefore  she  proposed  that 
he  should  hand  his  mother  to  a  seat,  and  at  his  earliest 
convenience  return  for  her. 

Thus  Murray  and  his  mother  were  the  first  to  pay  their 
devoirs  to  the  "powers  that  be."  Then  seating  her  on  a 
sofa  in  the  most  desirable  part  of  the  room,  he  brought  a 
friend  of  his  —  a  distinguished  stranger — and  introduced 
him  to  her.  After  which  he  took  his  station  by  the  side 
of  the  Governor. 

It  was  hard  to  tell,  as  they  stood  there  together,  which 
created  the  greatest  sensation;  the  fair,  ruddy,  light- 
haired,  merry -faced,  medium-sized  man  in  office,  or  the 
pale,  dark,  and  grandly  melancholy  countenance  and 
manly  form  of  his  aid.  Perhaps  place  and  position  threw 
a  few  straws  in  the  balance  against  our  friend  Murray,  in 
the  minds  of  the  mothers  and  more  calculating  daughters; 
but  with  the  natural,  sentimental,  and  disinterested,  our 
somber  friend  made  him  kick  the  beam. 

As  soon  as  his  duties,  as  the  Governor's  right  hand 
man,  were  over,  he  excused  himself,  and  left  for  the  pur- 
pose of  conducting  the  peerless  Gertrude  through  the 
rooms.  On  his  way,  he  encounters  Mr.  Gaines,  wTho  is 
wearing  a  mock  rueful  face,  but  with  a  lurking  smile  in 
the  corner  of  his  rather  pretty  mouth.  On  inquiring  the 
cause,  Gaines  says : 

u  The  one  thousand  and  one  rebuffs  which  I  have  met 
with,  at  different  times  from  Miss  Lindsay,  are  all  nothing 
to  the  one  I  have  just  received.  I  went,  as  I  thought,  in 
duty  bound  —  being  of  the  same  household  —  to  offer  my 
arm  to  the  lady,  my  old  play -mate,  when  she  rejected  it 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


249 


with  scorn.  She  absolutely  spurned  me  as  I  imagine  a 
Sultana  would  a  presumptuous  slave.  She  declared  she 
would  sit  there  till  broad  daylight,  if  you  did  not  choose 
to  come  for  her  until  that  time." 

"  And  yet  you  laugh,  Mr.  Gaines.  I  regret  this  scene, 
but  I  declare  you  evidence  so  much  philosophy,  or  it  may 
be  apathy  under  it,  that  I  am  filled  with  admiration. 
Which  of  these  is  in  full  exercise  now,  Josiah  ?  " 

"Neither,  sir;  I  only  let  patience  have  her  perfect 
work.  It  will  not  always  be  so,  and  you  will  see  it,"  and 
he  smiled  significantly,  and  passed  on. 

Gertrude  surpassed  herself  in  elegance  to-night.  Of 
late,  in  her  absorbing  desire  to  please  her  lover,  she  had 
dressed  more  in  accordance  with  his  taste,  which  was 
less  magnificent,  but  more  chaste  than  her  own.  On  this 
evening  she  wore  white  crepelise,  thickly  dotted  over  with 
minute  gold  stars.  A  border  of  jasmine  and  other  beau- 
tiful flowers,  were  wrought  in  gold  around  the  skirt,  as 
high  as  the  knees.  This  was  worn  over  white  satin.  A 
snowy  gossamer  veil,  ornamented  as  the  dress,  hung  in 
graceful  folds  depending  from  the  back  of  her  head. 
This  veil  was  made  from  the  finest  blond  lace,  and  so 
mazy  that  you  would  almost  doubt  of  its  existence,  had 
it  not  been  wrought  with  gold  thread  into  a  wreath  at 
the  border,  and  specked  all  over  with  the  smallest  span- 
gles. The  usual  tiara  of  diamonds  or  pearls,  each  worth 
a  sugar  plantation,  was  displaced  by  a  simple  wreath  of 
orange  blossoms  —  this  confined  the  veil.  Her  appear- 
ance, altogether,  was  more  feminine,  and  much  more  in 
character  with  her  age  and  girlhood  than  he  had  ever 
seen  it. 

As  soon  as  they  had  advanced  a  little  way  into  the  first 
parlor,  he  found  that  they  were  attracting  the  undivided 
attention  of  the  gaping,  admiring  multitude ;  and  remem- 
bering that  Gertrude  had  not  yet  received  the  obeisance 
of  the  presiding  genius  of  this  tumultuous  sea  of  human 


250  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

beings,  he  endeavored  to  lead  her  to  him  —  but  more  to 
avoid  the  rude  stare,  and  servile  bows  which  were  offered 
to  the  belle. 

In  elbowing  their  way  through  the  crowd,  Gertrude 
was  once  or  twice  in  imminent  danger  of  losing  her  veil, 
and  Murray  his  equilibrium  as  well  as  equanimity.  Many 
an  amusing  sight  and  shocking  sound  greets  them.  But 
what  matters?  This  is  a  Eepublican  Government,  and 
that  was  a  sort  of  "  omnium  gatherum,"  where  all  could 
come  and  feel  free.  Here  is  Apple  Joe,  as  the  chil- 
dren call  the  street  vender  of  that  fruit,  and  by  his  side 
is  his  little  dowdy  sweetheart  —  so  finely  dressed  that  she 
ignores  all  acquaintance  with  the  laundry  that  morning. 
Anon,  they  are  jostled  by  the  burly  blacksmith,  who,  at 
twelve  o'clock  to-day,  came  out  with  naked  arms,  sooty 
face,  leathern  apron,  and  hammer  in  hand,  to  examine 
a  loose  shoe  on  the  foot  of  one  of  the  noble  greys  before 
the  regal  equipage  of  the  proud  lady.  Now  he  pulls  his 
front  lock  with  a  clownish  bow,  to  the  polished  aristocrat. 
There,  too,  is  Mr.  Nathan,  the  Jew  clothing  merchant, 
gliding  about  amid  the  throng.  Here  are  masks,  and 
dominos,  and  fancy  dresses,  and  citizens'  dresses.  The 
badges  of  office,  the  insignia  of  pride  of  place,  pride  of 
wealth,  and  pride  of  family,  mingling  and  jostling,  cheek 
by  jowl,  with  the  artizan  and  tradesman.  There  stands 
the  gaping,  staring,  wondering  delegation  from  the  coun- 
try. The  peasant  is  easily  told  from  the  city  hireling. 
All  meet  here  on  equal  grounds  once  a  year,  upell  mell, 
in  the  people's  house  —  the  Executive  mansion." 

They  now  force  their  way  to  the  ballroom ;  and  there, 
flashing  in  diamonds  and  charms,  amid  that  unmitigated 
gaslight,  they  find  the  "  sot  disanV  elite  of  the  city.  We 
can  not  stop  here  to  describe,  at  any  length,  what  meets 
the  senses  there.  For  one  second,  all  is  suspended  * 
and  merged  into  that  admiring  gaze  at  the  handsome 
couple  who  now  advance  into  the  center  of  the  room. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


251 


Then  the  beaux  and  acquaintances  (but  not  friends ;  of 
such  she  is  minus.  Poor  lady !  Any  sort  of  superiority, 
any  very  great  endowments,  either  of  wealth,  genius,  or 
beauty,  separates  a  woman  from  her  species  —  especially 
from  her  own  sex,  and  leaves  her  really  isolated  and 
friendless)  —  of  Miss  Lindsay  flock  to,  and  crowd  around 
her  with  that  stereotyped  smile,  and  everlasting,  un- 
changing, monotonous  phrase  —  "  May  I  have  the  plea- 
sure to  dance  the  next  set  with  you  ?  "  She  declines  all 
overtures,  preferring  to  hang  on  the  arm  of  that  "  broken 
reed,'"  and  with  him,  to  view  and  criticise  the  motley 
scene. 

Here  is  a  lady  who  has  some  time  since  fallen  into  the 
"  sere  and  yellow  leaf,"  trying  to  blush  under  the  simili- 
tude of  spring.  Another  who  has  not  passed  her  first, 
fresh  girlhood,  is  bending  under  the  voluptuous  maturity 
of  summer.  Anon  a  child,  fair,  fresh,  and  ruddy,  is  per- 
sonifying winter,  and  is  dressed  in  crimson  velvet  and 
gold  fringes  ;  she  is  literally  bowed  down  with  ermine 
and  the  heat.  It  is  not  exactly  a  "  midsummer  night," 
but  it  is  a  balmy  evening  in  May.  This  is  a  called  ses- 
sion of  the  Legislature,  and  out  of  season,  and  out  of 
order,  as  many  other  things  are  also. 

Here  are  kings  and  queens,  lords  and  ladies,  counts  and 
countesses.  On  the  right  stands  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  royal  lover.  On  the  left  is  Eich- 
lieu,  seeming  to  be  engaged  in  watching  the  soft  dalliance 
of  the  distinguished  couple.  Here  is  Queen  Elizabeth,  with 
ruff  and  farthingale,  dancing  the  latest  French  cotillion 
with  her  favorite  Leicester.  By  her  side,  whispering  and 
giggling  in  the  last  and  most  approved  style  known  in 
the  court  of  folly,  is  her  beautiful  rival,  the  Queen  o' 
Scots.  Then  there  are  May  Dacres,  and  sweet  Lucy  Ash- 
%tons,  and  Die  Vernons  ;  but  the  young  "  JSTourmahal,  the 
light  of  the  harem,"  does  not  join  in  the  giddy  whirl 


252  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

to-night,  but  stands  apart  with  a  look  of  quiescent  con- 
tentedness  never  before  seen  on  that  countenance  under 
similar  circumstances. 

u  Conrad,"  murmured  she,  looking  lovingly  into  his 
face,  "  I  will  not  keep  you  standing ;  you  are  feeble,  and 
must  feel  weary.    Let  us  join  your  mother  at  once." 

He  did  not  reply,  and  she  found  he  was  watching  a 
couple  who  were  standing  back  in  an  alcove  window, 
looking  on  at  the  dancers. 

"  Who  is  that  distinguished-looking  man  there,  so  darkly 
and  superbly  handsome?  he  who  is  bending  over  and 
talking  so  earnestly  to  that  mask  ?  See  how  gracefully 
and  trustingly  she  hangs  on  his  arm  —  his  stout,  strong 
arm." 

"  Yes,"  said  Murray,  "  'tis  the  ivy  and  the  oak,  the  vine 
clinging  to  the  brave,  tall  tree."  He  had  not  removed  his 
eyes  while  speaking,  but  kept  them  fixed  on  the  masked 
figure. 

"  Who  are  they?  See,  they  emerge  from  their  hiding- 
places.  Why,  Conrad,  he  is  the  handsomest  man  in  the 
room,  except  yourself.  I  think  him  the  most  perfect 
impersonation  of  Coeur-de-lion.  Do  you  think  he  meant  to 
revive  the  1  Black  Knight '  here  this  evening,  Charles?  " 

"  ]STo:  I  do  not  presume  he  ever  thought  of  it ;  but  had 
King  .Richard's  spirit  sought  the  world,  though,  he  could 
not  have  found  a  more  worthy  representative,  not  only 
seemingly  but  really." 

"  You  know  him,  then  ?  Pray  enlighten  me  ;  I'm  cap- 
tivated." 

"  No,  not  much  ;  very  slightly  acquainted  with  the  per- 
son, but  well  aware  of  the  great  worth  of  the  man." 

They  passed  on  to  the  drawing-room,  and  approached 
the  Governor. 

"  Ah  !  my  queen  of  beauty  !  my  Yen  us  de  Medicis  !  my 
constellation  has  been  incomplete  all  the  evening.  And 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


253 


now  all  lesser  lights  pale  in  the  presence  of  this  star. 
See,  see,  how  they  hide  their  diminished  heads  already. 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  look,  Conrad.    Ah  !  you  are  a  lucky  dog." 

This  last  remark  and  burst  of  merriment  was  evoked 
from  the  little  Governor,  who  really  did  feel  very  great 
admiration  for  the  personal  appearance  of  Gertrude,  by 
the  dropping  off  of  the  gay  bevy  of  ladies  who  had  con- 
tinued to  revolve  around  him  the  whole  night,  until  his 
hyperbolical  simile,  expressing  his  sense  of  her  superi- 
ority, had  given  offense.  He  had  managed  to  make  each 
one  think  herself  the  prime  favorite;  thereby  keeping 
quite  a  number  near  him  to  aid  in  the  tiresome,  conven- 
tionalities imposed  on  him  by  his  high  position.  But 
now  they  are  scattered  to  the  four  corners  of  the  room,  or 
elsewhere,  and  that  brilliant  trio  are  left  standing  alone. 

The  Governor  then  proposes  that  they  shall  adjourn  to 
the  ball-room ;  but  Gertrude  excuses  herself,  and  inti- 
mates that  she  would  like  to  join  Mrs.  Murray. 

They  find  her  still  in  conversation  with  that  distin- 
guished stranger.  The  gentleman  rises  and  offers  his 
seat,  but  Gertrude  passes  on,  knowing  by  experience  that 
one  lady  never  forgives  another  who  is  so  unfortunate,  or 
imprudent,  as  to  supplant  an  agreeable  gentleman  by  her 
side.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Green  are  sitting  there,  but  sweet 
Mary  Green  is  treading  that  everlasting  round  with  her 
blond  lover. 

Murray  threw  himself  down  by  Gertrude,  and  com- 
plained of  great  weariness.  The  lady  was  full  of  sympa- 
thy and  regret,  and  invoked  all  sorts  of  genteel  little 
imprecations  on  herself  for  imposing  on  him  such  a  task. 

"  Well,  never  mind  now,  you  can  not  help  it ;  they  will 
make  such  a  lioness  of  you.  This  evening  you  have 
enjoyed  an  unprecedented  triumph,  and  now  we  can  afford 
to  sit  still  and  watch  the  progress  of  the  treadmill." 

"  Yes,  my  love,"  whispered  she,  and  then  blushed  at 


254 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


her  own  temerity.  So  she  commenced  her  criticisms  in  a 
hurried  and  embarrassed  voice. 

u  Mrs.  Calderwood,  as  I  live.  Why,  yesterday  she  pro- 
nounced herself  ill  in  bed.  Look,  Conrad,  how  she  is 
trying  to  give  old  Miss  Nancy  Jones  the  slip.  See  how 
the  poor  old  toady  hangs  on." 

As  she  came  near,  they  could  hear  her  voice  in  a  loud, 
hissing  whisper  :  "  Yes,  Mis  Callerwood,  they  are  here. 
I  sawT  'em  in  the  ball-room  jest  now,  as  I  peeped  in.  She 
was  dressed  beautiful,  and  looked  mons'rous  pretty.  I 
declare  he  looked  down  in  her  face,  like  he  was  beginning 
to  love  her.  His  mother  is  here  too,  and  got  on  all  her 
fixings,  and  looks  ra-al  elegant." 

Mr.  Calderwood  was  dragging  his  wife  along  at  a  rapid 
pace,  as  if  to  get  through  with  an  irksome  duty,  as  well 
as  to  shake  off  her  usual  appurtenance,  Miss  Nancy  Jones. 
She  had  no  intention  of  extending  the  least  civility  in 
public  to  the  poor  old  creature,  or  in  fact  of  being  seen 
with  her ;  but  her  anxiety  to  know  all  about  certain  per- 
sons whom  she  hated  because  she  envied  them,  and  the 
eager  delight  with  which  she  gave  her  attention  to  what 
"  they  do  say"  was  stronger  even  than  pride.  So  as  they 
walk  along,  her  head  is  thrown  back  in  the  attitude  of 
listening. 

Calderwood  gives  her  a  sudden  jerk,  with,  "  What  in 
the  devil's  name  are  you  dragging  back  so  for?"  And 
thus  he  separated  her  from  the  crone.  He  has  just  per- 
ceived Gertrude,  and  is  all  anxiety  to  throw  himself  in 
her  train.  Now  they  stop,  and  Calderwood  is  transfixed 
before  the  beauty  and  the  belle. 

Murray  most  cordially  despised  this  married  roue,  and 
moved  off,  that  he  might  not  be  forced  to  listen  to  the  ful- 
some adulation  which  he  knew  would  be  poured  into  the 
willing  ear  of  his  affianced  bride. 

So  Calderwood  and  his  wife  dropped  down  on  each  side 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  255 

of  Gertrude ;  the  former  commencing  a  whispered  con- 
versation. Thus  Miss  Nancy  was  shuffled  off  with  as  lit- 
tle compunction  as  they  would  have  thrown  away  a 
worthless  garment. 

"  Poor  old  thing  !  "  said  Mrs.  Green,  M  I  am  truly  sorry 
for  her."  She  made  room  between  herself  and  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, and  invited  her  to  sit. 

Murray  noted  this  good  action,  and  it  penetrated  him. 
He  therefore  rose,  and  remained  standing,  in  order  to  give 
them  more  space. 

That  perpetual  round  of  promenaders  is  now  for  the 
first  time  broken,  and  the  large  room  is  greatly  thinned. 
The  "  elephant  "  has  gotten  through  wTith  the  exhibition 
of  himself,  and  has  stolen  off  to  regale.  The  lesser  mem- 
bers of  the  jungle  follow  the  example  of  the  master  beast 
of  the  managerie. 

"  Who  is  that  pretty,  interesting  girl  with  Doctor 
Brown?"  said  Murray  to  Mrs.  Green.  "  Surely,  I  have 
seen  her  before." 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Brown.  The  doctor  is  married,  you 
know." 

"  Married  ?  When  ?  Why,  I  never  heard  a  word  of  it." 
A  laugh  a  little  too  loud  and  boisterous  for  the  "  queen  of 
beauty,"  burst  from  Gertrude,  which  seems  to  startle  and 
shock  Murray. 

"  She  never  does  anything  right  when  in  company  with 
that  wretch,"  said  he  to  Mrs.  Green.  The  lady  smiled 
and  shook  her  head. 

"  Why,  Col.  Murray,  you  are  the  veriest  old  1  Eip  Van 
Winkle.'  Have  you  also  been  asleep  twenty  years  ?  "  said 
Gertrude. 

This  thoughtless  remark  elicited  a  laugh  from  a  portion 
of  the  circle,  but  it  passed  without  further  notice. 

Murray  was  occupied  in  watching  the  little  doctor, 
whose  good-natured  face  was  glowing  with  happiness. 
Minny  was  dressed  in  a  delicate  rose-colored  .gros-de- 


256 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Naples,  made  "  low-necked  and  short  sleeves."  She  also 
wore  costly  lace  and  handsome  rubies,  which  were  pecul- 
iarly becoming  to  her  rich  brown  skin.  There  were  no 
ornaments  in  her  hair,  save  one  "  red,  red  rose."  She  is 
greatly  improved  in  appearance,  having  become  fat  and 
plump;  her  complexion,  too,  is  clear.  In  short,  she  is 
now  a  very  pretty  little  woman,  and  is  the  embodiment 
of  cheerfulness,  amiability,  and  contentment. 

"  Whom  did  he  marry  ?  "  asked  Murray. 

"  A  Miss  Dun  ;  an  exceedingly  interesting  Scotch  girl," 
replied  Mrs.  Green. 

"Do  you  visit  her,  madam?  "  again  inquired  he. 

"  Oh  yes,  and  like  her ;  she  is  as  estimable  as  she  is 
pleasing." 

"  Do  you  visit  my  friend  Brown's  family,  mother?  " 

"  No,  Conrad,  /can't  of  course  visit  one  of  her  low  ori- 
gin ;  but  I  assure  you,  my  dear,  I  shall  always  feel  grate- 
ful to  her,  and  would  be  willing  to  do  her  a  service  at  any 
time.  I  tell  you,  madam,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Green,  "her 
attention  to  my  son  during  his  illness  was  unremitting. 
She  came  with  her  husband,  night  after  night,  and  per- 
formed miracles  in  the  way  of  watching  by  his  bedside." 

Just  then  they  passed,  seeming  to  be  as  much  interested 
in  each  other  as  if  they  had  not  been  married,  or  were 
still  lovers.  The  doctor  bowed,  and  Minny  smiled  brightly 
and  ingenuously. 

"  There  is  no  consciousness  of  inferiority  in  that  sweet, 
satisfied  smile,  and  composed  countenance,  at  least,"  said 
Murray. 

"  She  feels  none,  and  there  is  none.  She  is  equal,  and 
even  superior,  in  many  things,  to  the  best  of  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Green. 

"  Where  did  my  friend  Gabriel  find  her  ?  " 

"Well,  now,"  struck  in  Miss  Nancy,  unable  to  contain 
longer,  "  they  do  say  that  she  has  seen  better  days,  away 
over  on  the  Black  Sea,  in  Scotland,  where  they  say  she 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


257 


come  from ;  but  for  several  years  here  she  has  kept 
that  little  old  toy-shop  away  down  Market  street,  in  that 
low,  mean  neighborhood  close  by  "  

"  Oh  well,  Jones,  hush  ;  you  never  know  where  to  stop 
when  you  get  started.  The  woman  couldn't  help  what 
you  say  of  her ;  she  was,  you  know,  deadly  poor.  All  I 
ever  had  against  her  was,  that  she  would  always  keep  up 
such  an  intimacy  with  that  insolent  milliner ;  she  with 
that  hateful,  pretty,  smirking  face  of  hers." 

A  loud  "ha!  ha!  ha!"  from  Calderwood,  was  the  only 
response  to  this  amiable  speech  of  his  wife. 

Murray  jumped  up  angrily  and  left  them,  and  advanc- 
ing toward  the  inoffensive  subject  of  this  rude  philippic, 
he  joins  them,  and  shakes  hands  cordially  with  Brown,  who 
introduces  his  wife,  seeming  to  swell  with  pride  as  he  calls 
the  dear  little  Minny  by  his  name.  After  a  short  prom- 
enade together,  they  return  and  take  their  seats  opposite 
to  the  party  on  the  sofa.  They  talk  of  the  doctor's  mar- 
riage, of  Murray's  illness,  etc.  Minny  converses  with  ease 
and  fluency ;  very  sweetly  interlarding  her  phrases  with 
her  pretty  Scotch  words.  But  she  has  lost  some  of  them, 
which  <l  dear  Gabe  "  has  found,  such  is  the  reciprocity  in  all 
things  between  them. 

Murray  adverts  to  the  evening  he  met  her  at  the  thea- 
ter ;  for  as  soon  as  he  heard  her  speak,  he  had  recognized 
her  to  be  the  same  sweet  little  creature  who  had  so 
charmed  him  with  her  simplicity  and  innocent  self-pos- 
session. But  when  he  ingeniously,  as  he  thought,  led  to 
the  subject  of  the  veiled  lady,  and  essayed  to  gain  some 
information  of  her,  his  friends  became  suddenly  silent 
and  embarrassed ;  and  now  the  whole  scene  from  first  to 
last  dawns  on  his  awakening  memory,  and  he  urges  them 
in  the  most  impassioned  voice  to  enlighten  him. 

"  I  can  na  tell  ye,  sir.  I  have  nae  right  to  speak  o* 
that  puir  lady's  sad  history.  I  am  bound  by  an  oath  not 
to  do  sae." 


258 


THE    NIGH  T    W  ATC  11  . 


"  For  heaven's  sake,  my  friend  !  compassionate  my  con- 
dition, and  tell  me,  if  no  more,  whether  she  escaped, 
and  how." 

u  Well,"  replied  the  Doctor,  between  a  sigh  and  a  growl, 
for  the  little  man  found  his  kind  heart  was  prompting 
him  to  do  a  thing  which  his  reason  condemned,  and  his 
pledged  word  forbade ;  u  well  then,  she  was  rescued 
alive,  by  that  noble  beast,  the  lion  of  his  tribe,  or  1  big 
black  bear,'  as  he  looked  then — Murdoch,  the  Night 
Watch." 

"  God  bless  him  !  "  cried  Murray.  "  May  a  just  Power 
so  rescue  him  from  all  trouble !  And  there  he  is  now, 
with  that  slight  graceful  mask,  again."  They,  were  talk- 
ing earnestly,  in  a  low  voice.  "By  heavens!  I'll  go 
and  thank  him.    Who  is  that  with  him?  " 

"  Aweel ;  I  dinna  ken,  seeing  her  face  is  covered  over 
with  that  pasteboard  thing." 

"  True,  I  had  forgotten  ;  how  could  you  know  ?  " 

He  starts  oif,  overtakes  them,  shakes  hands  with  Mur- 
doch, expresses  his  pleasure  at  the  meeting,  and  bows 
respectfully  to  the  mask.  Murdoch,  in  an  embarrassed 
and  little  bit  clownish  way,  congratulates  him  on  his 
recovery;  then  a  dead  pause  ensues,  as  they  pass  on  and 
leave  the  room. 

"  Oh  !  there  is  that  glorious  Black  Knight  again.  I 
really  envy  the  mask  on  his  arm.  How  proud  I  should 
be  to  have  such  a  sublime  '  personification  of  night '  to  do 
battle  for  me,  and  be  subject  to  my  behest !  " 

A  universal  burst  of  merriment  succeeded ;  several  of 
the  party  exclaiming  in  astonishment,  "  Why,  Miss  Lind- 
say, you  are  crazy." 

"Who  is  he  then?"  two  or  three,  or  more  voices  call 
out  at  once. 

"  Why,  it  is  only  Murdoch,  the  Night  Watch,  dressed 
up." 

"  I  don't  believe  it."  said  she. 


THE    NIGHT    WATC  H 


259 


"It  is  true,  though,  my  dear"  whispered  the  roue  in 
her  ear.  "  And  now  talk  to  me,  my  sweet  girl.  We 
have  not  many  moments  allotted  to  us,  like  the  pres- 
ent, of  late.  Why  is  this,  my  love?"  said  he,  squeezing 
her  hand. 

The  lady  returns  the  pressure,  but  intimates  by  some 
secret  sign,  that  his  wife  is  on  the  qui  vive. 

The  spell  is  broken,  and  the  aristocratic  beauty  no  longer 
sees  Eichard  Cceur-de-lion,  in  the  huge  form  passing 
before  her,  but  remembers  that  he  is  awkward  as  well  as 
athletic ;  his  shoulders  are  too  broad  and  brawny,  and  his 
moustache  and  whiskers  altogether  too  black  and  bushy. 
Moreover,  she  had  thought  all  the  time  that  he  did  carry 
himself  like  a  plebeian,  and  a  very  Night  Watch  —  that 
even  there,  in  the  Governor's  drawing-room,  he  still 
retained  the  sort  of  stride  and  swing  belonging  to  his 
office.  Poor  Eichard  Cceur-de-lion  !  Thou  art  most  sud- 
denly unhorsed.  Most  ruthlessly  robbed  of  thy  helmet, 
shield,  and  buckler  ! 

When  Murray  returned  he  found  the  room  vacated.  A 
servant  steps  up  and  tells  him  that  the  Governor  wished 
to  see  him  in  the  first  supper  room. 

"Lead  on,"  said  Murray.  When  he  entered  the  room 
he  saw  the  same  elite  standing  around  the  table  ;  the  Gov- 
ernor and  Miss  Lindsay  presiding  at  the  head.  He 
receives  a  sign  from  them  to  join  the  brilliant  circle,  of 
whom  Gertrude  is  the  nucleus. 

Toast  after  toast  is  drunk  ;  sentiment  after  sentiment 
given ;  tribute  after  tribute  offered  up  at  that  shrine, 
where  he  only  never  had  bowed,  or  bent  the  knee  in  true 
homage.  He  gazes  at  the  sparkling  creature,  then  hang- 
ing on  the  Governor's  arm.  At  last,  but  slowly  the  con- 
viction is  forced  on  him,  that  he  is  perhaps  untrue  to 
himself  in  thus  secretly  worshiping  an  idol  which  has 
long  since  been  dragged  from  its  pedestal,  the  image  only 
of  which  is  now  hid  away  in  his  own  heart.    Was  it  not 


260  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

wrong,  to  fling  away  such  a  prize,  to  toy  with  the  happi- 
ness of  another,  and  maybe  at  last  immolate  the  peace 
and  welfare  of  both  to  a  shade.  "  Alas  !  I  am  very  willful 
and  wayward.  Should  I  not  be  proud  of  an  alliance  with 
this  woman,  whom  everybody  admires  ?  Should  I  not 
feel  gratified  by  the  marked  preference  she  shows  me 
every  where  ?  But  is  not  her  love  at  all  times,  in  public 
as  well  as  in  private,  too  demonstrative  ?  Oh  yes,  I  am 
oftentimes  shocked." 

u  Come,  Colonel,"  calls  out  the  Governor,  u  you  are  a 
recreant  knight,  I  fear.    You  have  not  yet  proposed  a 

toast  to  your  ladye-  friend  here.    Shall  I  suggest  one 

for  you  ?  ' ' 

Murray  bowed.  The  little  great  man  drew  himself  up 
and  throwing  back  his  head,  gave,  "  The  Queen  of  Beauty ; 
The  Light  of  the  World  ;  The  Young  NourmahaL"  The 
intoxicating  cup  was  quaffed  with  enthusiasm,  and  the 
Siren  smiled  complacently  and  encouragingly  on  this 
libation.  Another  and  another  glass  of  the  sparkling- 
juice  is  poured  out  on  that  altar,  and  still  the  Circe  allures 
and  fascinates.  At  last  the  calm,  dignified,  self-possessed 
Murray,  the  cool,  unimpassioned  lover,  the  candid,  hon- 
orable, upright  gentleman,  drinks  deep  and  madly— for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  abandons  himself  to  his  wThirl- 
wind  passions. 

They  are  about  to  adjourn.  The  Governor,  who  is 
much  more  than  u  half-seas  over,"  offers  his  arm  again  to 
Gertrude ;  but  Murray,  with  a  smile  and  bow,  which 
would  have  done  honor  to  George  the  Fourth,  says, 
''Excuse  me,  Governor,  I  am  opposed  to  a  monopoly, 
even  in  office,"  and  leads  off  the  "Light  of  the  World." 

lie  carries  her  to  a  private  balcony,  and  then  the  here- 
tofore indifferent  lover  breathes  into  the  eager  ear  of  the 
infatuated  girl,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  something  like 
passion.  He  does  not  tell  her  he  loves  her;  his  lips 
refuse  to  utter  this  untruth  ;  but  he  makes  her,  in  some 


T  II  E    NIG  H  T     W  A  X  C  H  . 


261 


wild,  incoherent  way,  comprehend  that  he  is  dazzled  and 
bewildered  by  her  charms  ;  that  he  is  intoxicated  with 
the  idea  of  possessing  this  pet  of  society ;  in  short,  that 
he  is  consumed  with  passion  for  her.  He  begs  her  to 
appoint  another  day — an  early  day  —  for  their  marriage. 
When  she,  with  well -feigned  chariness,  tells  him  to 
compose  himself,  and  speaks  of  a  month  —  then  remem- 
bers that  that  is  a  very  short  time  to  make  all  suitable 
arrangements,  he  calls  to  mind  how  infirm  of  purpose  he 
has  always  been  on  that  one  subject ;  feels  that  he  must 
not  again  subject  his  feelings  to  the  alembic  of  time, 
that  he  must  act  promptly,  if  at  all,  and  therefore  says, 
with  energy, 

"  Come,  Gertrude,  let  it  take  place  now,  at  once ;  no 
more  postponements,  an  you  love  me."  Then  she  accedes 
with  a  charming  modesty,  which  quite  takes  him.  He 
strains  her  to  his  breast  in  a  long  and  passionate  embrace. 

O  divine  spirit  of  "pure  love!"  surely  thou  hast  folded 
thy  wings,  and  in  thy  stead  some  demon  doth  possess 
this  poor  mortal,  who  from  childhood  till  now  has  ever 
been  the  soul  of  honor  !  O  Spirit  of  Wine  !  What  hast 
thou  done  ?  This  mighty  sin  shall  be  laid  at  thy  door. 
See  !  thou  hast  superseded  all  the  gentler  and  finer  emo- 
tions of  his  soul. 

On  stepping  from  the  open  window  back  into  the  room, 
Murray  thought  he  saw  a  dark  figure  glide  from  under  the 
curtain,  and  move  swiftly  away.  But  what  matter,  he 
sees  double  now. 

Gertrude  has  rejoined  her  party,  and  Murray  rushes  off 
somewhere  to  breathe  the  fresh  air.  He  cares  not  where 
he  finds  it ;  but  he  has  need  of  it  to  cool  his  fevered  brain. 

He  has  very  much  the  feeling  of  one  who  has  been 
impelled  by  some  unseen,  indefinable  influence  to  sign  his 
own  death-warrant.  Now  he  bares  his  breast  to  the 
breeze ;  he  feels  frantic ;  he  does  not  know  whether  joy 


262  THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 

or  anger  is  the  dominant  feeling;  but  he  knows  that  he  is 
almost  mad. 

Many  persons  are  promenading  that  spacious  piazza ; 
but  he  heeds  them  not.  There  he  stands  with  open 
bosom  inviting  the  winds  and  the  storms,  if  they  would 
come.    The  front  of  the  executive  mansion  in  the  city  of 

 is  ornamented  with  majestic  Corinthian  columns ; 

as  he  passes  by  one  of  these  pillars  a  mask  darts  from 
behind  it,  and  puts  a  note  into  his  hand,  then  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  is  gone.  He  examines  the  pillar; 
there  is  scarce  a  foothold  for  a  bird  behind  it.  He  turns 
into  the  house,  and  by  the  first  light  in  the  hall  reads :  — 

"  Col.  Murray — Beware  how  thou  dost  bind  thyself  by 
bonds  which  will  chafe  thee  unto  the  end  of  thy  life.  Suf- 
fer no  fetters  to  be  riveted,  save  those  which  have  been 
forged  by  affection.  A  true  friend  advises  thee.  She  whom 
thou  hast  loved  fondly  from  thy  boyhood  yet  lives,  and 
loves  thee,  even  as  much  as  thou  dost  love  her.  Remember, 
and  beware  of  ties." 

With  a  still  wilder  start,  and  more  bewildered  look,  he 
is  about  to  leave  the  house,  with  head  uncovered,  and 
cloakless. 

"  How  now,  Conrad?  Is  your  head  so  weak,  that  you 
can  not  drink  the  health  of  your  friends,  and  pledge  them 
in  a  cup  each  to  his  own  Divinity  ?  Come,  you  have  been 
derelict  ere  now,  and  we  have  forgiven  you ;  but  our 
clemency  is  not  like  the  widow's  cruise.  This  way !  "  and 
he  leads  to  the  dining-room,  where  a  knot  of  good  fellows 
are  standing  before  the  sideboard.  They  separate  for  the 
Governor  and  his  aid :  then  they  all  join  in  congratula- 
tions on  the  approaching  nuptials ;  this  calls  for  bumpers, 
and  they  jest  and  laugh  with  the  most  obstreperous  mer- 
riment.    At  a  moment  when  Murray  is  speaking  to 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


263 


Gaines,  who  is  one  of  the  Governor's  clique,  the  latter 
steps  off,  and  then  they  drink  once  more. 

Presently  Col.  Murray  seeks  his  party.  He  finds  Ger- 
trude and  the  Governor  engaged  in  a  low,  earnest  con- 
versation :  he  seems  to  be  charging  her  with  something 
which  she  is  denying.  On  perceiving  him,  they  both 
become  confused.  The  Governor  rallies,  and  with  a  smile 
in  which  a  slight  shade  of  sarcasm  is  visible,  says — "Well, 
we'll  see  ;  we'll  see  !  " 

He  then  leads  her  to  Murray  —  "Sir,  Miss  Lindsay 
grows  languid.  Our  poor  efforts  to  please  pall  on  her 
over-fastidious  taste.  She  complains  of  satiety;"  then 
bows,  and  leaves. 

"  There  is  something  covert  in  that  speech,"  said  Mur- 
ray, mentally  ;  and  he  grew  a  little  bit  jealous.  It  is  said 
that  "  Love  sat  to  the  artist  when  jealousy  was  painted." 
Our  friend  Murray  is  somewhat  entangled  with  both. 
He  says,  "I  will  ask  Gertrude  what  it  all  means?  Pshaw! 
why  should  I  ?  I  shall  not  be  the  wiser  if  I  do.  From 
henceforth,  I  must  make  myself  half  blind,  and  just  as 
deaf; "  and  a  keen  pang  shot  through  his  heart. 

Now  the  multitude  is  dispersing,  he  hands  his  mother 
and  Gertrude  into  the  carriage,  and  jumps  in  after  them. 
They  are  whirled  home.  On  taking  leave  of  the  beauty, 
with  a  feeling  of  desperation  he  clasps  her  again  madly 
to  his  bosom.  Some  spirit  —  whether  good  or  bad,  we 
know  not  which  —  whispered,  "  Think  of  thy  lost  bride; 
think  of  poor  Marianna."  And  he  remembers  then  the 
mysterious  note :  thinks  he  will  peruse  it  more  particularly 
when  he  reaches  home.  Ere  he  gets  there,  his  memory 
and  mind  are  both  overshadowed;  he  throws  himself 
heavily  on  the  bed,  and  sinks  into  a  deep  sleep. 


26  i 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

T  HE  MASQUE. 

"  An  !  could  you  look  into  my  heart, 
And  find  your  image  there  ; 
You  would  own  the  sunny  loveliness 
Affection  makes  it  wear." 

"The  beautiful  are  never  desolate,  for  some  one  always  loves  them." 

"But,  Leah,  I  don't  see  why  you  should  care  so  much, 
and  be  always  troubling  yourself  about  people  whom  you 
do  not  know,  and  who  care  not  for  you.  Is  it  that  you 
are  in  love,  too,  with  that  handsome  fellow  yonder,  with 
all  them  gauds  and  glittering  rags  hanging  on  his  arm? 

D  him  !  he  has  crossed  my  path  before,  and  I  would 

hate  him  if  I  could." 

u  But  thou  canst  not,  Murdoch ;  all  who  know  Colonel 
Murray  must  respect  and  honor  him,  if  not  love  him." 

The  man  turns  fiercely  on  her,  scowls,  and,  dropping 
her  little  hand,  folds  his  arms. 

"  Leah,  you  had  better  stop  there  !  If  you  desire  any 
good  to  come  to  that  haughty  man,  you  had  best  say  no 
more :  for  by  your  own  fathers  Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob, 
and  all  the  rest  of  'em,  I'll  put  this  into  him  (touching  a 
large  clasp-knife),  with  as  little  remorse  as  I  killed  that 
rabid  dog  yesterday.  That  is,  if  I  find  him  stealing  you 
away  from  me  also." 

"  Dear  Murdoch,  I  do  not  know  the  man  —  never  have 
been  nearer  to  him  than  at  this  moment,  until  he  joined 
us  so  cordially  to-night.  But  let  me  tell  thee  now,  once 
for  all,  that  it  is  not  Col.  Murray,  but  the  lady.    I  know 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


265 


that  it  is  only  through  him,  that  her  happiness  can  be 
secured.  Then  why  shouldst  thou  threaten  thus  ?  Thou 
dost  not  love  me  now,  Murdoch."  The  girl  spoke  this  in 
a  subdued,  heartbroken  tone. 

"Did  I  love  your  mother,  girl?  Did  I  worship  her 
while  on  earth  ?  and  do  I  adore  her  image,  now  that  she's 
in  heaven?" 

"  I  think  thou  dost,  good  Murdoch." 

"Then  know  that  you  are  like  her  —  a  fac  simile  of 
her." 

Her  face  lights  up  with  joy  as  she  raises  her  timid 
eyes  to  his.  u  Dear  friend !  dear  foster  brother !  but  do 
not  talk  so  sharply.    You  awe  me." 

He  presses  her  hand  as  he  looks  down  in  her  face 
affectionately. 

"  Go  on,  Leah,  go  on,  dear  girl.  I'll  do  my  best  to  keep 
down  the  beast,  and  conceal  the  Night  Watch  under  the 
garb  of  the  Governor's  guest  and  thy  lover.  ISTow,  go  on, 
Leah.  What  were  you  saying  ?  Your  voice  is  very 
soothing  and  sweet  to  my  ears." 

"  I  don't  know,  now ;  excessive  happiness,  as  well  as 
intense  wretchedness,  makes  us  stupid.  I  can  think  of 
nothing  but  thyself,  when  near  thee,  my  dear  brother." 
She  raised  her  little  hand  to  her  head,  and  seemed  to  be 
trying  to  recall  some  vagrant  thought.  Then  she  looked 
up  brightly  and  said  : 

"  Ah  !  I  have  seen  this  sweet  lady ;  have  talked  to  her; 
have  looked  into  that  touchingly  beautiful  face ;  gazed 
into  those  deep,  deep  melancholy  eyes ;  have  received 
kind  and  courteous  treatment  from  her.  Oh !  she  is 
divinely  beautiful !  I  would  not  have  blamed  thee  for 
adoring  her  —  for  falling  down  and  worshiping  her  like 
a  canonized  saint,  or  an  enshrined  image,  as  thy  religion 
teaches  ;  but  surely  thou  didst  dream,  madly  dream,  Mur- 
doch, when  thou  didst  think  of  mating  with  that  proud, 
high-born  Christian." 
23 


266 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  How  do  you  know  that  she  is  high-born,  Leah?  " 

"  Ah  !  how  could  I  fail  to  know  ?  Nobility  of  soul  is 
written  on  her  countenance,  proclaimed  by  her  gentle 
manners,  and  in  her  sweet  voice ;  it  is  labeled  on  every 
act  of  her  faultless  life.  Yet  is  she  proud,  she  would  not 
even  listen  to  thy  love.    Poor,  dear  Murdoch  ! " 

"  Blame  me  not,  girl,  but  blame  yourself.  This  would 
never  have  happened  to  me  had  your  mother  lived  ;  for 
then  you  would  not  have  kept  from  me  the  light  of  your 
own  sweet  face,  thus  consigning  me  to  darkness.  Leah, 
you  do  not  feel  for  me,  and  hide  my  faults,  and  excuse  my 
failings  as  your  mother  did.  She  knew  of  my  weaknesses 
and  pitied  me.  She  knew  —  but  maybe  you  do  not  yet 
know  (and  that  strong  man  trembled)  that  beauty  —  the 
beautiful  form  and  face  of  woman,  has  a  maddening  influ- 
ence on  me.  It  creates  a  sort  of  delirious  joy,  an  insane 
desire  for  possession,  an  exquisite  pain,  a"  

"  Alas  !  poor  Murdoch  !  "  said  Leah,  interrupting  him, 
"  I  have  heard  my  mother  say  so,  good  friend,  but  as  yet 
I  have  found  thee  very  clever  and  docile.  Thou  shouldst 
be  the  Sultan,  Murdoch.  Wouldst  like  to  be  a  Grand 
Turk,  brother?" 

"  No,  girl,  I  spoke  truly  when  I  said  you  did  not  know 
me.  I  have  never  loved  but  twice  before,"  pressing  her 
hand,  "  and  then  only  one  at  a  time." 

"  Dost  admire  that  radiant  creature  yonder,  hanging  so 
lovingly  on  the  arm  of  Col.  Murray  ?  " 

"  No,  child  ;  no  indeed  ;  I  never  liked  a  full-blown  rose, 
or  a  gaudy  tulip,  or  dahlia,  which  spreads  out  its  gay 
beauties  to  meet  the  kisses  of  every  sunbeam,  or  to  invite 
every  idle  breeze,  as  you  know.  But,  Leah,  I  have  ever 
sought  out  the  modest  and  lowly  wild  flowers.  I  should 
never  have  raised  my  eyes  to  that  divine  creature,  had 
she  been  exalted,  and  above  all,  had  there  not  been  some- 
thing mysterious  about  her,  something  which  I  could  not 
comprehend  ;  and  this  feeling  was  the  offspring  of  com- 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


267 


passion,  and  a  desire  to  protect  and  cherish.    But  she 

spurned  me  ;  Oh,  she  spurned  me  for  him  !    D  him  ! 

would  that  I  could  hate  them  both." 

"Hush!  hush!  Thou  art  mistaken,  sir;"  said  the 
girl,  in  a  calm,  dignified  voice,  "  thou  dost  wander  far 
from  the  mark,  when  thou  blamest  that  man.  He  did 
not  supplant  thee.  Long  before  that  poor  lady  came  to 
this  city,  they  were  attached,  engaged,  and  separated. 
He  loved  as  even  thou  thyself  knowest  how  to  love, 
dear  Murdoch.  Then  be  not  too  hard  ;  thou  art  like  him 
in  many  things,  good  friend.  By  the  most  cruel  train  of 
circumstances  they  were  torn  asunder.  My  father  was 
the  prime  minister  in  the  atrocity,  and  the  directing  and 
controlling  power  was  that  shrewd  but  bad  woman,  Mrs. 
Murray.  Even  now  she  holds  a  despotic  sway  over  him, 
for  which  I  can  not  account." 

"Leah,  how  do  you  know  all  this?  By  heavens!  if 
you  can  prove  this  to  me,  I  will  take  a  vow,  a  solemn 
oath,  that  I  will  not  look  upon  your  sweet  face,  or  embrace 
you,  until  I  have  restored  them  to  each  other.  But  you 
must  make  it  clear  to  me,  girl,  without  shadow  of  doubt, 
and  I'll  bind  myself  to  do  your  bidding  in  all  things. 
Then,  when  they  are  happy,  I  shall  claim  my  reward," 
and  the  strong,  brawny  arm  of  the  J^ight  Watch  encir- 
cled her  waist,  and  strained  to  his  breast  that  delicate, 
refined  girl. 

"  Let  it  be  as  thou  sayest,"  sighed  she,  with  intense 
happiness.  "And  now  listen  to  me.  My  dear  mother, 
ere  she  died,  when  entrusting  her  poor  child  with  many 
another  fearful  secret,  leaving  many  injunctions  and  innu- 
merable directions,  told  me  also  of  this  —  detailed  to  me 
minutely  all  the  events  which  transpired  some  seven  or 

eight  years  ago,  in  the  city  of  ,  where  she  and  my 

father,  and  all  the  other  members  of  the  plot  then  lived. 
She  made  me  promise,  and  she  called  on  all  the  patriarchs 
to  witness  it,  that  I  would  be  vigilant,  and  always  ready 


268 


THE    NIGHT    W ATCH. 


at  a  moment's  warning,  to  aid  and  succor  that  poor  lady, 
should  I  ever  find  her  out.  At  the  same  time  said  that 
facts  had  become  so  mystified,  and  it  was  now  such  a  tan- 
gled web,  that  she  feared  I  would  never  be  able  to 
straighten  it ;  confessed  with  tears,  that  she  had  signally 
failed,  but  urged  me  to  put  forth  all  the  energy  and  power 
of  my  soul,  which  is  brave  and  strong  in  obeying  the 
behests  of  that  sainted  mother.  Then  she  pointed  to 
thee,  Murdoch,  as  a  fit  coadjutor  in  this  work  of  mercy. 
She  did  not  see,  she  scarce  hoped,  that  we  could  restore 
the  lovers,  but  she  believed  we  might  save  the  poor  lady 
some  anguish,  and  my  misguided  father  the  stain  of 
another  crime  on  his  benighted  soul.  Then  she  told  me, 
and  oh  !  so  mournfully,  Murdoch,  that  I  should  find  my 
reward  in  a  peaceful  conscience  here  —  all  she  had  ever 
known  —  and  a  full  recompense  in  heaven."  The  girl 
wept. 

"  Ah  !  do  not  weep,  darling.  This  is  no  place  for  tears. 
We  are  at  the  Governor's  reception  ball,  my  good 
Leah." 

"  I  care  not,  Murdoch  ;  I  have  no  heart  for  such  light 
pleasures  ;  mine  is  a  higher  mission.  I  rarely  have  time 
to  smile,  even.  See,  there  is  my  father  now,  with  his 
stealthy  step,  creeping  along  the  wall,  intent  on  some  evil 
purpose.  O  that  God  would  gather  me  to  my  people, 
or  that  I  might  become  apathetic,  blind,  deaf." 

"  Well,  Leah,  what  do  you  propose  ?  I  am  your  tool, 
until  this  work  of  retribution  is  accomplished.  Com- 
mand me,  girl,  as  your  own." 

'  God  bless  thee,  Murdoch !  but  I  must  first  premise  two 
conditions." 

"  Well,  I  am  ready,"  said  he,  drawing  her  nearer. 

"  First,  thou  art  not  to  endanger  thy  own  precious  life; 
then  thou  must  save  my  father.  Murdoch,"  said  she,  seiz- 
ing his  hand  with  both  of  hers,  "  that  old,  white-haired 
man  must  not  be  sent  into  the  presence  of  his  God  with  a 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


269 


fresh  crime,  an  unrepented  sin  on  his  head.  Promise  me 
this,  friend." 

"  Lord,  Leah,  what's  the  use?  He'll  never  be  any  bet- 
ter. He  sold  the  immortal  part  of  himself  long  ago  to 
Satan,  for  what's  in  that  old  trunk,  you  know,  child.  I 
sometimes  think  I  can  see  the  imps  or  young  devils,  hov- 
ering around  him,  waiting  for  the  old  carcass." 

The  girl  looks  hurt,  and  very  much  troubled,  as  she 
replies  :  "  I  know  thy  vocation,  thy  dark  life  ;  I  mean  thy 
life  in  the  dark,  has  made  thy  vision  very  acute  about  dark 
things,  and  thou  mayest  have  so  much  to  do  with  the  Evil 
One  thyself,  that  the  members  of  his  family  are  not 
afraid  to  show  themselves  in  thy  presence.  I  have  never 
seen  such  company  about  my  poor  father.  Methinks 
thou  art  quick-sighted,  sir.  But  this  is  thy  own  lookout, 
good  Murdoch.  Art  thou  free  from  sin  ?  "  said  she,  with 
much  spirit. 

"  From  crime,  as  God  above  knows,  and  my  little  wife, 
that  is  soon  to  be,  believes.  Come  now  Leah,  you  must 
forgive  me.  I  love  you  so  much,  and  I  have  identified 
myself  with  you  so  fully,  that  I  felt  free  to  speak  as  I  did 
of  our  father.    You  will  pardon  me,  loved  one." 

"  I  do,  Murdoch  ;  but  we  waste  time." 

"  What  do  you  propose  then,  I  again  ask?" 

u  There  is,"  said  the  girl,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  "a  dread- 
ful plot  forming;  a  frightful  scheme  hatching.  I  have 
watched  its  progress  for  some  time.  Old  Faggot,  the 
Jew  miser  —  not  my  father  Levi  Nathan,  mind  you  —  is 
engaged  by  two  wealthy  ladies  at  a  high  price  to  kidnap 
or  kill  that  poor  defenseless  lady." 

Murdoch  starts  violently,  and  in  his  agitation  lets 
Leah's  arm  drop. 

M  My  Grod !  you  don't  tell  me  so.  Are  they  at  that 
game  again  ?  " 

"  It  is  even  so.    They  think  she,  the  unfortunate  Mrs. 


270 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Wise,  whom  they  all  now  identify  with  his  lost  Marianna, 
stands  in  the  way  of  the  consummation  of  the  marriage 
of  Col.  Murray  and  the  wealthy  Miss  Lindsay.  He  only 
seems  to  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  her  existence.  This 
marriage  has  already  been  interrupted  twice,  and  these 
evil-minded  persons  attribute  this  delay  to  her;  when  she, 
poor  woman,  is  wrholly  unconscious  of  the  existence  of 
such  facts." 

"  Leah,  you  surprise  me ;  but  how  could  this  be?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  they  would  have  been  married  a 
year  ago,  about  the  time  the  lady  is  first  seen  in  the  city. 
It  seems  he  got  an  accidental  sight  of  her  at  the  window, 
and  being  struck  with  the  wonderful  resemblance  to  one 
whom  he  had  thought  dead,  he  immediately  conceived 
the  romantic  idea  that  she  was  one  and  the  same  person ; 
and  so  he  was  not  forthcoming  in  due  season." 

"  Oh  yes !  I  know.  It  was  the  same  time  that  I  saw 
her,  and  was  so  dazzled  and  grew  so  distracted,"  chimed 
in  Murdoch.  "  I  do  remember  the  very  first  time  he  got 
a  glimpse  of  her  at  the  old  window,  '  he  jumped  almost 
out  of  his  hide,'  as  Johnson  says,  'with  amazement.'  But 
Leah,  I  thought  it  was  on  account  of  her  pretty  face,  and 
I  tried  to  hate  him  from  that  time." 

"  After  that,  the  old  Hecate  his  mother,  and  the  Circean 
beauty,  who  is  now  looking  so  swTeetly  and  innocently  up 
into  his  face,  cajoled  him  into  another  engagement,  which 
was  again  interrupted  by  the  events  of  that  disastrous 
night,  when  Col.  Murray  was  wounded." 

"  Yes,  d  him  !  I  can  never  forget  that  night ;  or  the 

mighty  fall  he  occasioned  me.    D  him  !  I  wish  I  could 

hate  him." 

"  Hush,  Murdoch,  thou  dost  shock  me.  Is  it  thus  thou 
shouldst  treat  the  child  of  thy  best  friend  ?  Why  dost 
thou  continually  offend  mine  ears  by  such  coarse  pro- 
fanity?" 


THE     NIG  H T     W  A  T  0  H  . 


ill 


"  Once  more  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me,  Leah.  Go  on.  I 
will  not  offend  again,  unless  I  forget  myself,  or  am  sur- 
prised." 

"  Now,"  resumed  the  girl,  "they  have  put  their  wits 
together  to  inveigle  him  into  another  promise,  well 
knowing  that  he  will  fulfill  it  with  his  life,  if  not  pre- 
vented by  omnipotent  power.  That  man  would  not 
break  his  plighted  faith  even  to  that  woman  by  his  side, 
all  heartless  as  he  knows  her  to  be." 

"  She  loves  him  with  an  entire  heart,  Leah  ;  you  can 
see  that ;  then  how  can  she  be  heartless  ?  " 

"  Well ;  her  passion  for  him  is  all  that  redeems  her 
from  it." 

u  Leah,  I  will  just  ask  you  one  question,  and  then 
indeed  I'll  hear  you  to  the  end  :  How  do  you  find  out  all 
these  deep,  dark  secrets?  " 

The  maiden  blushed  with  shame  at  the  recollection  of 
the  ignoble  post  she  occupied  in  her  father's  house  —  her 
pure  nature  recoiled  at  the  name  of  "  spy."  She  spoke 
quickly,  and  in  a  curt,  cold  voice  :  u  Why  ask  me  that,  sir? 
I  thought  that  thou  didst  know,  that  old  Faggot,  the  Jew 
peddler,  miser,  usurer,  and  villain,  had  a  spy  planted  in 
every  house  in  the  city,  where  his  interest  or  his  malice  is 
at  stake ;  and  that  his  wretched,  degraded  daughter  had  a 
crack  in  the  wall,  and  quick  ears,  and  sharp  eyes  ?  I 
thought  thou  didst  understand  all  this,  and  the  whys  and 
wmerefores?  Now,  Murdoch,  I  have  thy  promise  to  aid 
me  in  this  good  work.    Have  I  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  will  obey  you  in  all  things,  doing  my  best  to 
succeed.  Then,  even  if  I  fail,  having  satisfied  you  with 
my  efforts,  sh-all  I  then  claim  my  reward,  and  receive  my 
recompense  ?  " 

u  Oh  yes,  dear  Murdoch." 

"  Thank  you !  thank  you,  Leah."  And  it  was  then 
that  they  emerged  from  the  alcove  window. 

Later  in  the  evening  we  saw  Murray  join  them.  Still 


272 


THE     NIGHT     W  A  T  C  II 


later,  we  see  Leah  gliding  away  from  the  window  of  the 
balcony.  Lastly,  we  meet  her  on  the  piazza,  after  she  has 
darted  from  the  column.  Having  now  accomplished  her 
mission  —  that  which  brought  her  there  —  she  and  her 
lover  return  to  her  home,  where  peace,  comfort,  and  a 
refreshing  banquet  await  them. 

Levi  Nathan  had  not  intended  that  his  daughter  should 
leave  home  that  night ;  he  thought  he  had  shut  her  in,  as 
once  before.  Therefore,  he  did  not  suspect  that  the  tall, 
graceful  girl  on  Murdoch's  arm,  was  his  own  daughter. 
He  had  met  this  couple  once  or  twice,  and  had  passed 
with  a  cringing  bow.  Having  been  informed  by  the 
little  black  slave,  that  Mrs.  Wise  would  accompany  Doc- 
tor Brown  and  Minny  to  the  Governor's  levee  "  en  masque" 
he  had  agreed,  for  an  enormous  sum,  exceeding  even  the 
former  stipulation,  to  abduct  her;  and  with  this  fiendish 
intent,  he  and  his  emissaries  had  repaired  to  the  mansion. 

It  is  true,  Myra  had  been  coaxed  into  giving  her  con- 
sent, and  would  have  suffered  herself  to  be  taken,  had  not 
the  little  Clarence  come  home  that  evening  sick.  And 
thus  again  was  she  saved  from  falling  into  the  clutches 
of  these  vultures.  Leah  had  stolen  forth,  through  one  of 
the  secret  passages,  and  met  her  lover  on  the  confines  of 
that  old,  gloomy  court. 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  G  H  . 


273 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  FORGERIES. 

f  Thought  ye  your  iron  hands  of  pride,  '  . 

Could  break  the  knot  that  love  had  tied  ? n 

"  Thither,  full  fraught  with  mischievous  revenge, 
Accursed,  and  in  a  cursed  hour  she  hies." 

ObL.  Murray  awoke  after  his  revel,  with  an  aching 
head  and  heavy  heart.  He  rings  for  his  servant,  and 
orders  a  bath,  after  which  he  dresses  himself  with  great 
care — intending  to  call  on  Miss  Lindsay  agreeable  to 
appointment  —  to  hear  the  day,  that  day  of  days,  named. 

James  picked  up  a  paper,  and,  handing  it  to  his  master, 
says :  "  You  jes  drap  that,  sir."  He  opens  it,  and  as  he 
reads,  becomes  red  and  white  by  turns  ;  then  starting  up, 
walks  hurriedly  across  the  room. 

"  James,  do  you  remember  that  hovel,  away  down  Mar- 
ket street,  where  that  beautiful  boy  lived?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  a  lady  lives  there  much  more  beauti- 
fuler  than  the  boy." 

Murray  blushed  involuntarily  as  he  said :  "  Silence, 
sir!    I  asked  you  but  one  question." 

James  clasped  his  hands  low  down  over  his  stomach, 
and  commenced  twirling  his  thumbs,  trying  to  look  like 
"  suffering  innocence,  just  ready  to  be  offered." 

"  Where  are  they,  then  ?  I  think  they  have  left  their 
former  residence,"  rejoined  Murray,  turning  away  as  he 
spoke. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  ezactly;  but  I  know  they's  still  in 
the  city." 


274  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

u  Are  you  sure,  James  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  I'm  quite  sure  of  that  circumstance  — 
'cause  the  pretty  child  you  was  a  speaking  about,  is  still 
at  the  old  theater,  a  playing  to  crowded  and  admiring 
hou"  

"  Will  you  keep  silence,  sir,  and  only  reply  as  you  are 
questioned?  What  is  this  boy's  name?  —  I  mean  the 
name  of  his  family  ?  " 

"  I've  heard  Tivvy  say,  sir,  that  her  name  was  Mrs. 
Wise." 

"  Very  well ;  now  go  and  ask  Tivvy  what  her  Christian 
name  is.  Then  answer  to  the  bell,  and  be  ready  to  carry 
letters  to  the  post-office." 

When  James  got  alone  with  Tivvy,  she,  artful  creature 
as  she  was,  drew  him  on  ingeniously  to  speak  of  his  mas- 
ter's affairs,  and  although  he  was  a  faithful  servant  as 
negroes  go,  and  attached  to  his  master,  he  was  nothing  in 
the  hands  of  such  an  intriguante  as  the  lady's  maid.  So 
she  made  him  tell  her  everything  that  passed;  and  when 
he  had  done  so,  he  was  scarcely  aware  of  it,  so  adroitly 
had  she  wormed  these  secrets  from  the  poor  fellow,  who 
would  gladly  have  been  true  to  his  master,  whom  he 
admired  and  honored  above  all  things. 

The  bell  now  sounds  loudly  from  Murray's  room. 
When  James  again  presents  himself,  he  tells  his  master 
that  "  Tivvy  does  not  know  the  tother  name  of  the  beau- 
tiful lady."    He  had  forgotten  to  ask. 

"It  makes  no  difference,  I  presume  ;  put  this  letter  in 
the  office,  and  then  call  at  Maj.  Lindsay's  and  leave  this 
note." 

He  bowed  with  an  obsequious  u  yes,  sir,"  and  his  master 
walked  out. 

When  James  went  to  answer  his  master's  bell,  Tivvy 
slipped  up  to  her  mistress's  dressing-room,  where  she 
found  Miss  Lindsay  and  the  old  lady ;  they  had  sat  there 
in  secret  conclave  all  the  afternoon.    Gertrude  was  dis- 


THE     NIGHT     W  A  T  C  H  . 


275 


appointed  in  Murray's  promised  call  in  the  morning;  so 
she  came  to  fret  and  complain  to  his  mother. 

Tivvy  listened  a  moment  at  the  door  before  she  entered, 
and  heard  the  old  lady  say,  "  I'm  glad,  Gertrude,  you 
have  brought  him  to  that,  anyhow.  But  there  really  is 
no  trusting  that  man  now.  Don't  feel  too  secure,  my  dear. 
I  hope  he  will  go  through  with  it  this  time.  God  grant 
that  he  may  not  already  have  forgotten  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  madam  ?  Do  you  suppose  he 
could  forget  his  pledged  word,  voluntarily  given,  and  that 
to  Miss  Lindsay  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray  smiled,  and  said  with  a  peculiar  emphasis, 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,  he  never  did  do  such  a  thing.  ISTow 
let  me  tell  you  of  a  fact  which  may  have  escaped  you." 

"Well,  madam,  I'm  all  attention." 

"Charles  Conrad  Murray  was  drunk  last  night;  the 
first  time  to  my  knowledge  in  his  life." 

The  girl  laughed  hilariously.  What  of  that,  mother  ? 
I'm  sure  he  had  a  noble  precedent  —  the  first  officer  in  the 
State.  Such  high  characters  can  do  anything.  They 
almost  ennoble  vice,  in  my  eyes.  But  what  has  that  to 
do  with  our  present  subject,  madam?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,  only  men's  oaths  made  when  they  are 
drunk  are  not  considered  valid  in  a  court  of  justice,  and 
I  had  thought  were  even  less  to  be  relied  on  in  a  court 
of  love.    That's  all,  child,  that's  all." 

Tivvy  comes  in  and  hands  her  mistress  the  mysteri- 
ous note  which  Murray  had  received  at  the  Governor's. 
James  held  this  in  his  hand  when  he  joined  her  in  the 
hall,  having  picked  it  up  again  on  leaving  the  room. 

Mrs.  Murray  reads  and  grows  white  in  the  face,  all  to 
the  two  hectic  spots. 

"  Something  has  turned  our  viceroy,  the  Devil,  against 
us,"  said  she  in  a  husky  voice;  "who  else  knows  anything 
of  those  dark  secrets?  " 

She  now  sets  to  work  to  circumvent  the  above  men- 


276  THE    NIGHT     W  A  T  C  II  . 

tioned  gentleman.  Having  learned  from  Tivvy  that 
James  is  ordered  to  carry  letters  to  the  office,  she  with 
that  far-sighted  policy  and  prompt  decision  which  would 
have  done  credit  to  Richlieu,  instructed  the  girl  to  way- 
lay James  in  the  hall,  having  equipped  herself  for  a  walk, 
and  then  carelessly  say  to  him,  that  the  ladies  are  waiting 
for  the  carriage,  which  must  be  at  the  door  immediately. 
Tivvy  should  then  take  the  letters  and  leave  the  house,  as 
if  on  her  way  to  the  office. 

James,  well  knowing  that  Mrs.  Murray's  voice  was  all- 
potential  even  with  his  master,  did  not  dare  to  gainsay  or 
even  demur  to  what  Tivvy  had  said,  but  handed  her  the 
letters,  and  hurried  to  the  stable. 

The  letters  traveled  back  to  Mrs.  Murray's  dressing- 
room,  and  there  they  stopped.  The  one  addressed  to  Miss 
Lindsay  ran  thus : 

"Dear  Gertrude  —  I  am  prevented  by  indisposition 
from  calling  on  you  at  the  appointed  hour,  as  agreed  upon 
last  night.  To-morrow,  I  will  not  fail.  Pray  excuse  my 
short-comings  to-day.  I  am  feeling  particularly  wretched. 
Adieu,  Murray.'1 

The  letter  to  Poor  Myra  seemed  to  have  been  written 
with  a  tremulous  hand,  and  under  great  excitement ;  was 
blotted  in  many  places,  perhaps  by  tears  wrung  from  that 
proud  man ;  I  know  not ;  we  deal  in  facts.  It  was 
couched  in  these  words  : 

"  Marianna,  dear  Marianna  —  Oh  !  my  God  !  How 
can  I  proceed?  My  beloved,  I  have  found  you,  have 
pierced  your  disguise,  and  now  all  the  combined  powers 
of  the  earth  shall  not  keep  me  from  you.  A  whole 
year  I  have  languished  between  hope  and  incertitude. 
Sometimes  wild  with  desire,  and  always  tortured  beyond 
endurance  by  suspense.    Still  you  hide  from  me.  Why 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  277 

is  this,  my  love?  —  my  first,  last,  and  only  true  affection. 
I  have  been  driven  to  the  verge  of  despair;  have  been 
goaded  on  to  desperate  acts,  but  my  love  for  you,  and  my 
steadfast  faith  in  you,  Marianna,  never  wavered.  I  love 
you  as  when  we  so  happily  and  trustingly  wandered  in 
tho^e  elysian  bowers.  I  adore  you  as  when  we  were  sep- 
arated, and  the  whole  world  became  a  bleak  and  dismal 
abode  of  misery  to  me.  Such  are  my  feelings  at  this 
instant.  Oh  my  lost  bride  !  my  own,  my  gentle  Mari- 
anna !  write  to  me,  my  love,  write  on  the  instant,  and  tell 
me  where  I  shall  find  you,  and  when  I  shall  once  more, 
Oh  heavens  !  clasp  you  to  my  wild  and  distracted  heart. 
And  now  I  vow  before  high  heaven,  that  nothing  short 
of  the  arm  of  Omnipotence,  or  your  own  positive  and  per- 
emptory rejection  of  me,  shall  prevent  my  finding  you  in 
less  than  twenty-four  hours. 

"Yours,  through  time,  Murray." 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of,  much  less  describe,  the 
rage  which  took  possession  of  the  beauty  on  reading  these 
two  documents.  The  one  addressed  to  herself  she  tore 
into  atoms,  then  trampled  on  the  fragments,  stamped  her 
pretty  feet,  gnashed  her  j)early  teeth,  and  foamed  at  the 
mouth,  in  impotent  rage.  An  insatiable  thirst  for  ven- 
geance, not  only  on  the  provocative,  but  the  innocent 
cause  of  this  outrage,  seizes  upon  her.  Oh !  it  is  a  fear- 
ful and  painful  sight  to  see  so  much  beauty  marred  by 
anger. 

Presently  she  grew  calm,  and  suddenly  checking  the 
torrent  of  imprecations,  she  sat  down  at  Mrs.  Murray's 
feet,  and  looking  up  in  her  face,  said  with  great  firmness 
and  emphasis,  speaking  slowly : 

"Mother,  lam  resolved  that  this  marriage  shall  take 
place.  I  do  not  care  whether  /  am  happy  or  miserable, 
blessed  or  cursed,  so  that  I  keep  him  from  her.    I  have 


278 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


set  my  life  on  the  cast  of  this  die,  and  in  one  week  more 
I  shall  have  accomplished  my  destiny." 

"Ah!  I  don't  see  now  what  more  can  be  done,"  said 
Mrs.  Murray.  "  That  old  wretch,  Faggot,  fails  us.  He 
too,  has  grown  craven  or  insane,  maybe  impotent  —  I 
know  not  what,  I  know  nothing." 

"  Aye,  but  he  shall  do  his  work  now,  and  that  quickly, 
else  will  I  play  his  own  game  on  him.  Mother,  do  you 
see  this  hand  ?  Think  you  it  would  be  squeamish  when 
my  vengeance  is  to  be  fed?"  and  she  bared  her  beautiful 
arm  to  her  elbow,  then  burst  out  into  a  loud,  frenzied 
laugh.  "  I  shall  presently  pay  him  a  visit,  and  if  he  does 
not  consent  to  act  promptly,  and  from  my  dictation,  then 
we'll  see  who  is  the  stronger." 

Mrs.  Murray  had  been  ruminating  moodily,  during  the 
time  that  Gertrude  had  played  off  these  fine  heroics ;  she 
now  looked  up  and  said  : 

"  I  have  one  more  expedient ;  after  that  I  am  done  for- 
ever. If  that  fails,  I  shall  scheme  no  more.  If  it  succeeds 
there  will  be  no  need."  She  goes  to  a  secret  drawer  in 
her  escrutoire,  and  takes  out  a  package  of  letters,  searches 
for  some  time,  selects  one,  then  says :  "  Gertrude,  can  you 
imitate  this  handwriting?  " 

She  looks  at  it  carefully,  and  taking  a  pen  writes 
two  lines. 

"  Aye,  that's  it !  that  will  do  precisely.  He  will  never 
suspect.  Now  take  this  sheet  of  coarse  note-paper.  It 
must  all  be  in  character  you  know ;  she  is  too  poor  to  get 
gilt-edged,  embossed  paper  to  write  to  her  paramour  (and 
then  she  snarled).  Write,  child,  in  the  characters  of  that 
letter,  what  I  shall  indite." 

When  this  forgery  was  finished,  she  looked  at  it  and 
pronounced  it  a  perfect  counterfeit.  "Now,"  said  she, 
"  imitate  my  son's."  Being  also  satisfied  with  that  cheat, 
she  proceeded  to  dictate  one  from  Conrad  to  poor  Myra, 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


279 


which,  when  finished,  wTas  put  into  the  envelop  the 
superscription  of  which  was  written  by  himself  as  the 
reader  is  aware.  Tivvy  wTas  then  dispatched  with  it,  and 
Gertrude  set  out  to  visit  the  old  Jew. 

She  finds  James  at  the  door  with  the  carriage  :  the 
ladies  had  both  forgotten  that  it  had  ever  been  ordered. 
She  threw  herself  into  it,  and  giving  the  direction,  wTas 
driven  rapidly  through  the  street,  passing  a  great  many 
squares ;  then  pulling  the  check -string  she  gets  out,  say- 
ing carelessly,  that  she  preferred  walking  home,  and 
dismissed  him. 

In  due  time  she  arrives,  and  enters  the  miser's  den,  or 
stronghold,  as  once  before  described.  She  finds  him  there 
in  the  same  crouching  attitude,  with  the  same  abject, 
cringing  look.  While  she  is  engaged  in  developing  that 
scheme  of  mischief  and  crime,  and  as  she  relates  with  a 
peculiar  accuracy,  rendered  necessary  by  the  affected 
obtuseness  of  the  miser,  how  they  had  intercepted  the 
letters,  and  had  forged  others  in  their  stead  ;  she  pulled 
out  her  handkerchief,  and  with  it  the  original  letter  writ- 
ten by  Murray,  which  falls  unperceived  on  the  floor. 
While  all  this  is  going  on  in  the  miser's  reception  room, 
Leah's  ear  is  at  the  wall,  and  drinks  in  every  syllable. 

After  the  lady  has  revealed  to  him  the  whole  of  that 
diabolical  plot,  as  devised  by  herself  and  that  arch-machin- 
ator,  Mrs.  Murray,  she  takes  from  her  pocket  a  splendid 
porte-monnaie,  and  opening  it  discloses  to  the  miser  its  con- 
tents. And  now  behold  those  little,  gleaming,  serpent- 
like eyes,  those  sharp  catamount  teeth,  which  are,  from 
some  spasmodic  affection  of  the  lips,  always  visible  ;  ever 
and  anon  he  licks  out  his  tongue  over  his  lips,  like  a  cat, 
and  clutches  his  claw-looking  fingers  convulsi  vely  together, 
as  if  feeling  for  something  between  them.  The  lady  looks 
on  with  an  amused  but  sinister  smile,  as  she  continues  to 
exhibit  note  after  note,  and  piece  after  piece  of  gold  coin 


280 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


— just  as  a  cat  toys  with  and  enjoys  the  fright  and  tor- 
ture of  the  poor  little  mouse. 

Faggot  has  glared  fiercely  on  that  display  of  gold,  until 
his  little  fiery  eyes  have  become  inflamed.  At  last  she 
takes  from  the  case  a  fifty  dollar  gold  piece,  poises  it 
between  her  fingers  f^r  a  moment,  eyeing  him  maliciously, 
then  putting  it  back  closes  the  purse  with  a  loud  click. 
"By  de  Got  of  mine  peoplesh,  dat  is  too  much  !"  and 
springing  at  her  he  tries  to  seize  the  porte-monnaie.  The 
lady  also  started  to  her  feet,  and  for  one  brief  moment 
they  close  in  a  fierce  and  deadly  conflict. 

"  What  art  thou  doing,  poor  old  man  ?  "  And  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  the  miser  cowers  beneath  the  calm, 
reproachful  look  of  his  daughter.  "  And  thou,  lady,  why 
stay  here  to  tempt  the  fiend  thou  hast  invoked?  Away  ! 
thou  hast  done  thine  errand  ;  thy  business  is  ended  ;  now 
leave  this  miserable  old  man  to  himself,  that  he  may 
exorcise,  as  best  he  can,  the  demon  which  has  been  raised 
by  thy  gold.  Go  !  I  tell  thee  for  thine  own  good,  haste  ! 
If  thou  hast  any  to  love  thee,  and  for  whom  thou  dost 
care,  then  for  their  sakes,  if  not  for  thine  own,  come  not 
here  again  !  " 

"  And  who  are  you,  pray,  who  thus  dare  to  queen  it 
over  me  ?  Who  ever  before  gave  Gertrude  Lindsay  an 
order  ?  " 

"  It  matters  not,  lady,  who  I  am,  or  who  thou.  art.  A 
moment  more  and  thou  hadst  been  numbered  with  those 
that  are  not.    I  have  saved  thy  life." 

"  From  what  ?  Saved  my  strong  life ;  from  wThat  ?  That 
poor,  feeble,  crawling  thing?  that  poor,  old  man?  I 
could  crush  him  with  one  hand.  Poor,  old  wretch  ! 
Think  you  I  fear  him,  or  you  ?  I  have  that  old  Jew  dog 
in  my  power.  I  could  hang  him  to-morrow,  an  I  would 
condescend  to  meddle  with  such  garbage." 

"  Lady,  thou  deceivest  thyself  in  all  things.  Thou 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


281 


knowest  not  with  whom  thou  dost  tamper.  Thou  hast 
had  the  indiscretion,  on  two  or  more  occasions,  to  leave 
thy  high  aristocratic  name,  on  little  scraps  of  paper,  with 
the  old 4  Jew  dog,'  which  had  brought  thee  to  judgment  ere 
this,  but  for  me  ;  and  now  let  me  tell  thee  proud  lady, 
when  that  poor,  despised  Israelite  is  dragged  before  a 
court  of  justice  thou  shalt  meet  him  there  ;  for  thou  and 
thy  accomplice,  the  old  lady,  are  both  compromised,  irre- 
mediably committed  with  that  old  1  Jew  dog.'  And  as  to 
thee  matching  thy  strength  with  his,  I  should  grieve  to 
see  it.  Look  at  thy  delicate  hands  and  wrists,  and  judge 
whether  he  whom  thou  seest  so  bowed  now,  is  always  so 
feeble." 

She  removed  her  gloves,  raised  her  sleeves,  and  found 
that  her  skin  was  bruised  and  torn  in  some  places,  and 
the  blood  ready  to  burst  from  under  her  nails.  For  a 
moment  she  looked  like  a  tigress ;  but  that  expression 
faded,  and  she  turned  to  the  Jew  with  something  of  a 
conciliatory  tone,  and  said : 

"  Mordecai,  I  do  not  consider  this  compact  shaken,  or 
at  all  events  it  is  not  broken  by  this  outrage.  I  hold  you 
to  it,  and  will  now  pay  you  the  amount  stipulated."  Then 
turning  to  Leah,  said,  "  Girl,  I  owe  this  man  a  certain 
sum  of  money,  which  I  shall  now  pay  over  to  him  ;  "  and 
while  she  counted  it,  Leah  stood  between  her  and  the 
miser.    As  she  handed  it  to  him,  she  said, 

"Make  sure  of  your  work  this  time,  Faggot;  let  there 
be  no  more  failures,  and  I  will  quadruple  that  sum." 

"  Yes,  mine  lady,  I  is  going  to  try  dis  time  to  close  de 
matter." 

"  Away,  away,"  said  Leah,  with  an  impatient  wave  of 
the  hand,  "  if  thou  hast  any  regard  for  the  safety  of  thy 
fair  face  and  reputation,  tarry  no  longer.  Wouldst  thou 
like  to  be  found  in  secret  conclave  with  Mordecai  Fa^ot, 
the  Jew  peddler,  Jew  dog?  " 

The  haughty  beauty  and  belle  cast  a  look  of  defiance 
24 


282  THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 

on  the  muffled  and  veiled  girl ;  but  at  that  moment  she  felt 
a  degree  of  respect  and  deference  for  that  unknown  per- 
son, such  as  she  had  never  experienced  for  any  living 
creature,  save  Murray.  When  she  had  departed,  Fag- 
got turned  on  his  daughter,  and  cursing  her  between  his 
ground  teeth,  commanded  her  to  leave  the  room. 

"  My  father,  be  not  wroth  at  thy  poor  child ;  she  has 
but  done  the  behest  of  her  sainted  mother ;  only  obeyed 
thy  wife,  and  saved  thee  from  imbruing  thy  hands  in 
blood,  insane  old  man  as  thou  art."  She  picked  up  the 
letter  which  Gertrude  had  dropped,  and  disappeared.  In 
it  was  inclosed  that  warning  written  by  herself. 

The  miser,  after  making  the  door  fast,  and  touching  the 
counter-spring,  unlocks  the  old  trunk  and  secretes  the 
money. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


283 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  LETTER. 

"  Memories  on  memories !  to  my  soul  again 

There  come  such  dreams  of  vanished  love  and  bliss, 
That  my  wrung  heart,  though  long  inured  to  pain, 
Sinks  with  the  fullness  of  its  wretchedness." 

M  Here  are  few  of  the  unpleasantest  words  that  ever  blotted  paper." 

Myra  sat  in  her  neat  little  sitting-room,  with  Clarence 
in  her  arms.  The  beautiful  boy  had  been  slightly  sick 
for  a  few  days,  and  the  kind-hearted  Mr.  Gooch  had 
brought  him  home,  as  he  said,  to  recuperate. 

"  Madam,  I  leave  my  little  friend  with  you  in  trust, 
until  he  thinks  himself  better.  I  believe  he  has  been 
somewhat  homesick  of  late.  Allow  me  again  to  reiterate 
my  readiness  to  serve  you  at  all  times." 

On  passing  Doctor  Brown's,  he  called  and  requested  the 
doctor  and  his  lady  to  drop  in  incidentally,  and  see  Mrs. 
Wise. 

Myra  and  the  old  lady  are  taking  their  tea.  There  is 
no  longer  any  appearance  of  pinching  want ;  they  do  not 
now,  as  once,  sit  down  to  empty  dishes,  merely  for  form 
sake.  Times  have  greatly  changed  for  the  better  with 
our  friends  since  first  we  met  them.  A  gentle  rap  at  the 
door.  Clarence  meets  them,  and  is  caught  up  in  the  arms 
of  dear  Gabe. 

"  Why,  Master  Clarens,  God  bless  the  boy !  how  he 
grows  and  improves." 

"  Aweel,  after  all,  I  can  na  think  staging  is  sae  bad  for 
a  bairn,  grand  am." 


284 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


The  old  lady  moves  about  the  room  without  taking 
any  notice  of  this  remark.  At  last  she  turns,  "  What's  all 
that  you've  got  in  your  arms,  Minny  ?  " 

"Not  o'er  much  of  ony  thing,  but  just  a  wee  bit  pres- 
ent for  the  distinguished  Master  Clarens." 

"Ah,  let  me  see  it,  aunt  Minny." 

"  Weel,  my  bonny  bairn,  sit  down  in  that  little  chair, 
and  I'll  gie  it  to  ye." 

So  Minny  unrolled  her  little  Dot  of  a  baby,  Myra  the 
second,  and  placed  her  in  his  lap.  Then  what  glee,  and 
gladness,  and  fun,  and  frolic  they  kept  up  over  that  lit- 
tle, plump,  white  child.  The  little  thing  laughs  and  coos, 
and  throws  her  little  arms  up,  and  knocks  her  little 
balls  of  fists  together.  But  when  the  baby -girl  first  of 
all  takes  the  boy's  hand  and  carries  it  to  her  mouth,  as 
all  babies  will  do,  then  their  mirth  knows  no  bounds. 
The  doctor  declares  that,  woman  like,  she  has  commenced 
coquetting  at  once. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Clarence  forgot  that  he  came  home 
to  be  sick,  and  Myra  feeling  no  longer  alarmed,  forgot  to 
be  gloomy,  and  the  old  lady,  who  was  pleased  with  all 
things  as  they  came,  except  the  theater,  after  having 
placed  everything  nicely  away  and  covered  up  the  little 
tea-table  for  breakfast,  took  her  knitting,  which  was  a  little 
pink  sock  intended  for  that  same  said  little  baby,  and 
seating  herself  in  front  of  the  merry  group,  commenced 
rocking  with  an  easy,  undulating  motion.  She  laughed 
so  heartily  at  their  nonsense  that  she  was  forced  frequently 
to  take  off  her  spectacles  and  wipe  them,  they  kept  grow- 
ing so  misty. 

Oh  what  a  happy  reunion  was  that !  How  little  of  such 
simple,  pure,  unalloyed  enjoyment  falls  to  the  lot  of  many 
of  us.  The  whole  secret  of  it  was,  they  loved  one  another. 
We  are  told  that  love  constitutes  the  employment  and 
enjoyment  of  the  angels  and  blessed  spirits  in  heaven. 
Then  may  we  not  think  that  the  nearest  we  can  approach 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


285 


to  the  condition  of  these  superior  beings  is  to  love  ?  Love 
God  first,  and  then  love  one  another  with  all  the  ability 
which  He  has  given  us;  and  this,  methinks,  creates  beati- 
tude on  earth. 

The  little  negro  had  been  sent  to  the  post  office,  for  even 
the  destitute  and  apparently  forgotten  inmates  of  that 
cottage  expected  a  letter.  It  was  late  when  the  girl 
returned ;  but  she  brought  a  letter.  Myra  seizes  it,  and 
looking  at  the  superscription,  turned  deadly  pale.  She 
tears  it  from  the  envelop,  and  reads.  It  w^as  penned 
neatly,  without  any  apparent  trepidation. 

"  Mrs!  Wise  —  Excuse  me,  Madam,  if  I  am  too  blunt 
when  I  tell  you  that  your  wrarning  note  came  too  late, 
a  little  too  late.  I  received  it  last  night.  I  have  also 
penetrated  your  disguise  too  late.  I  know  that  you 
are  Marianna  Glencoe,  whom  I  once  loved,  and  for  so 
many  years  have  thought  dead.  But  Marianna,  or  Myra, 
time  makes  strange  changes  with  us,  and  in  us.  I  could 
not  have  believed  it.  Seven  years  ago  I  could  not 
have  sat  down  so  calmly  to  inform  you  of  my  marriage, 
which  will  take  place  four  days  from  this  time.  Marianna, 
we  loved  then;  but  we  were  young  and  tender:  you 
twelve  and  I  just  eighteen.  How  could  we  expect  con- 
stancy from  children  ? 

"  Good  bye.    Yours,  respectfully, 

"  C.  Conrad  Murray." 

"  P.  S.  I  advise  you  to  follow  my  example  as  quickly  as 
convenient.    Shake  otf  the  old  shackles,  which  clog. 

"C.  CM." 

With  a  deep  groan  she  dropped  the  open  letter,  and 
falling  back  in  her  chair,  cried  out,  "  O  God !  Thou 
knowest  that  I  do  not  deserve  this  from  him  !  My 
heavenly  Father !  help  me  now  in  mine  extremity ! 
There  !  my  friend,  read  it,  and  tell  me  if  you  think  I 
merit  this  insult  ?    Had  one  come  from  the  dead,  or  an 


286  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

angel  from  heaven,  and  said  this  of — of — my  —  my  —  of 
Col.  Murray,  I  would  have  pronounced  it  a  slander."  And 
she  burst  into  wild  paroxysms  of  grief  and  lamentation. 
"  I  did  not  think  it  of  him  !  What  have  I  ever  done  but 
love  him?    Ah  yes  !  so  tenderly." 

"  Nor  do  I  believe  it,"  said  Doctor  Brown.  "There  are 
other  clever  ones  in  that  house  beside  my  friend  Murray." 

"  But,  Doctor,  it  is  his  hand  writing.  I  know  it.  Alas  ! 
I  know  it  too  well !  Would  to  God  I  did  not !  " 

The  child  hung  about  his  mother's  neck,  mingling  his 
tears  with  hers,  trying  to  soothe  her  by  kisses,  and  many 
assurances  of  love  ;  but  all  in  vain.  The  old  lady  quotes 
Scripture,  and  entreats  her  to  calm  herself.  But  Myra 
became  the  more  impatient. 

At  length  Minny  says  :  "  Let  her  alone,  grandam  ;  this 
grief  maun  have  its  way." 

The  Doctor  took  from  his  pocket  a  letter,  and  after 
comparing  them  carefully,  said  with  a  groan  :  "  Well ;  I 
give  it  up.  I  am  as  much  deceived  and  almost  as  much 
grieved  as  yourself.  Here,  wife,  compare  these  characters, 
and  see  if  you  can  find  a  flaw." 

Minny  took  the  letter  written  by  Murray  to  Brown, 
and  the  one  to  Myra ;  examined  them  side  by  side,  but 
she  could  see  no  difference.  Still  she  continued  to  say  — 
"  I  canna  think  it.  I  wdllna  yet  gie  it  up.  If  Colonel 
Murray  were  to  come  himsel'  and  swear  to't,  I  wadna 
think  he  tauld  the  truth.  And  now  friends,  mind  what 
poor  little  weak  Minny  Brown  tells  ye  :  Just  so  sure  as 
the  good  and  great  God,  who  made  that  gentle  moon 
which  is  to  light  us  hame,  is  pure  and  holy,  just  so  sure  is 
Col.  Murray  an  honest  man,  and  a  gude  ane.  He  never 
writ  that  insulting  letter." 

"  O  my  God !  Minny,  I  know  that  hand-writing," 
pointing  to  the  superscription.  "  I  have  reason  to  know 
it.  It  is  engraven  on  my  heart.  I  can  never  forget  it, 
through  time  and  eternity." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  287 

"Well;  I  can't  help  a'  that:  but  he  never  writ  that 
letter." 

It  was  now  agreed  that  Doctor  Brown  should  leave  his 
wife  with  poor  Myra.  The  whole  of  that  long  night  she 
wept,  and  sometimes  tried  to  pray ;  but  she  never  got 
beyond  "  O  Lord  pity  me,  and  forgive  him !  Have 
mercy,  Lord  ! "    And  then  she  would  choke  up. 

After  awhile,  when  she  thought  they  were  all  asleep, 
she  crept  from  her  bed,  and  taking  out  her  book  wrote  for 
a  long  time.  Minny  thought  that  pouring  out  her  grief 
to  her  friendly  journal  would  relieve  her;  but  finding  that 
she  only  grew  the  more  agitated,  the  good  little  soul  got 
up,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  the  neck  of  the  poor 
sufferer,  they  wept  together. 

"  Aweel,  my  dear,  you  mustna  greet  sae  !  I  canna  per- 
mit it  langer.  Myra  my  love,  my  sweet  sister,  good  will 
come  o'  this  yet.  You  maun  trust  God,  and  the  blessed 
Saviour  !  Lean  on  him.  He,  only,  never  deceives.  Come, 
Myra,  let  us  kneel  and  prostrate  our  souls  before  him." 
And  this  humble  and  pure-hearted  creature  prayed  fer- 
vently, but  simply  and  earnestly,  that  all  might  eventuate 
in  good  for  the  parties.  When  they  rose  from  their  knees, 
they  both  felt  comforted. 

"  Dear  Minny,  there  is  a  fearful  mystery  hanging 
over  me." 

"I  know  it,  dear;  ye  hae  tauld  me  sae  before;  but 
when  ye  could  have  had  it  cleared  up,  ye  wad  not,  and 
now  ye  maun  look  above  for  consolation." 

"  Dear  friend,  listen  to  me.  I  have  long  wished  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  those  secrets;  that  I  might 
claim  your  sympathy  and  counsel,  and  may  be  benefited 
by  your  prayers ;  if  you  should  think  it  worth  while  to 
pray  for  such  a  poor  benighted  thing  as  I  am." 

"  Hush  !  Hush !  Doubt  not.  You  should  trust  to  God's 
promises." 

So  they  sat  there  all  night  —  sometimes  reading  the 


288 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


journal,  and  sometimes  weeping.  It  was  daylight  when 
Myra  concluded  the  narrative. 

"  This  is  a  wild,  thrilling  story,  my  love,  but  it  will  a' 
come  right.  I  have  faith  to  believe  it;  and  I  tell  ye, 
now,  that  that  auld  Mrs.  Murray  is  at  the  head  and  foot 
o'  a'  the  mischief,  and  sooner  or  later  will  be  brought  to 
shame  and  sorrow.  Come  entrust  your  cause  to  the 
tender,  compassionate  Jesus  !  Dear  suffering  soul !  I 
love  you  ten  thousand  times  mair  since  I  have  heard  o' 
your  errors.  Puir  dear  !  ye  ha'  been  too  sairly  tempted. 
God  will  excuse  you,  and  bless  you  at  last." 

Then  Minny  dressed  herself,  and  taking  up  the  child, 
rolled  it  up  like  a  bundle  of  dry  goods,  took  an  affection- 
ate leave  of  all,  and  went  to  her  own  home. 

After  breakfast,  when  the  doctor  called,  he  found  poor 
Myra  sitting  just  where  he  had  left  her  the  night  before. 

"  Come,  come !  This  will  never  do.  I  can  not  have 
such  carryings  on.  I  will  not  stand  such  foolishness.  You 
must  go  to  sleep." 

She  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

"  Shake  not  your  head  at  me,"  said  the  little  man,  with 
a  "mock  tragic  air."  "Has  she  taken  any  breakfast, 
madam  ?  "  turning  to  the  old  lady. 

t£  Oh,  no,  I  could  not  even  get  her  to  look  at  it." 

"Well,  maybe  she'll  not  look  at  this,  either." 

He  mixed  a  potion  and  forced  her  to  drink  it ;  after 
which  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  as  he  would  have  done 
his  own  little  Myra,  and  without  saying  a  word,  laid  her 
in  the  bed,  and  covered  her  up  carefully.  During  this 
scene  which  has,  doubtless,  appeared  unfeeling,  this  good, 
kind-hearted  man,  was  forced  several  times  to  turn  away 
and  wipe  his  eyes. 

The  next  day  Murray  received  the  answer  to  his  tender, 
impassioned  letter  to  Myra,  which  was,  as  the  reader  has 
seen,  forged  by  the  same  evil  spirits,  and  he,  like  that 
poor  lady,  was  completely  deceived.     He  saw,  as  he 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


289 


thought,  her  well-known  handwriting  before  him.  He  did 
not  dream  of  fraud  —  at  least  he  never  thought  of  traitors 
in  his  own  household.  He  contemplates  those  familiar, 
and  once  loved  characters ;  but  what  pen  can  paint  the 
disappointment,  the  mortification,  and  keen  anguish  of 
soul,  which  has  come  upon  that  strong  man,  and  makes 
him  even  as  a  little  child?  Grief  has  subdued  that  proud 
spirit. 

And  now,  behold  him  walking  to  and  fro  in  his  room, 
with  such  languid  step,  and  mournful  look.  He  speaks 
in  a  low,  plaintive  voice,  soliloquizing :  O  God !  then 
there  is  no  trust  to  be  put  in  any  of  thy  creatures  !  No 
faith,  no  hope !  Two  days  ago,  had  a  man  told  me  this, 
I  would  have  felled  him  to  the  earth  for  uttering  the  foul 
blasphemy.  And  now,  what  a  change !  Yet  I  do  love 
her  "  said  he,  stopping  and  folding  his  arms  in  a  quiet, 
meek  manner.  "  Yes,  I  do  love  her,  even  now,  when  she 
has  so  disdainfully  spurned  me.  I  call  God  to  witness 
that  /  have  never  been  false  to  her.  True  was  I,  even  to 
her  memory  !  When  I  thought  her  dead,  still  did  I  cher- 
ish her  image  in  my  heart,  making  the  one  green  spot, 
amid  that  arid  waste,  which  was  watered  and  kept  alive 
by  my  tears.  O  Marianna !  Thou  hast  now  destroyed 
all  chance  of  happiness  for  me  in  this  world.  Yet  I  love 
thee,  and  still  I  pity  thee  !  Poor  girl !  Poor  '  stricken 
deer.'  The  herd  will  flee  from  thee,  then  where  wilt  thou 
find  a  bosom  to  shelter  thee  like  this !  I  wrote  that 
nothing  but  her  own  positive  rejection  of  me,  or  the  arm 
of  Omnipotence,  should  stay  me  in  my  search.  Oh,  my 
love !  my  bride  !  my  mfe,  in  the  sight  of  heaven  !  thou 
hast  pierced  thy  lover  to  the  soul!  Would  to  God  I 
knew  where  to  find  her!  Even  now,  discarded,  spurned, 
maybe  scorned,  I  would  still  kneel  and  implore  her  to 
receive  me,  and  if  not,  then  in  mercy  to  tell  wherefore." 
He  takes  out  the  letter  again  and  reads : 
25 


290  THE    NldHT  WATCH. 

"  Mr.  Conrad  Murray  —  Why,  sir,  do  you  not  let  me 
rest  in  peace  ?  Why  not  suffer  me  to  remain  unmolested 
in  the  obscurity  I  have  chosen  ?  Would  you  pursue  me 
to  the  shades  of  death?  Have  you  not  caused  me  misery 
enough  ?  Do  you  wish  to  embitter  the  days  that  are  left 
me  for  rejDentance  and  prayer?  Would  you  destroy  that 
serenity  which  heaven  has  vouchsafed  to  me,  and  not  see- 
ing you  to  tempt,  I  have  learned  to  enjoy?  I  tell  you, 
Conrad,  we  must  never  meet.  There  is  a  great  gulf 
between  us,  greater  than  you  know  of.  So  leave  me  in 
peace.  I  will  never  see  you  again  ;  I  do  not  wish  it.  Had 
I  desired  this  meeting,  I  would  have  made  myself  known 
to  you  when  I  sat  by  your  side,  and  hung  upon  your  arm. 
Farewell,  forever.  Marianna  Glencoe." 

u  Ah  yes,  Marianna,  thou  didst  indeed  hang  upon  this 
arm  heavily,  heavily,  as  if  overcome  by  the  weight  of  thy 
own  loving  heart.  O  God  !  I  felt  that  heart  beat  against 
mine,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  break  the  bounds  of  its 
prison  house,  to  meet  the  wild  responsive  throb.  There 
was  no  dissimulation  then  ;  that  was  nature  asserting  her 
supremacy.  But  now  she  says,  alas !  what  does  she  not 
say?  Surely  she  has  dipped  her  pen  in  gall.  Marianna, 
thou  art  strangely  altered."  He  again  reads  and  repeats 
slowly  and  emphatically,  "  I  will  never  see  you  again ;  I 
do  not  wish  it."  Well,  I  would  not  thrust  myself  into 
heaven  even,  unwished  for.  I  presume  I  can  live 
through  this,  too.  We  have  an  allotted  number  of  years 
to  suffer,  and  toil,  and  rest,  and  play  the  fool,  and  sin, 
and  repent ;  and  then  comes  the  end.  When  my  cup  is 
full,  and  I  have  achieved  my  destiny,  then  God  will  do 
with  me  as  seemeth  him  best.  Till  then,  I  will  yield 
myself,  and  float  down  with  the  current  on  the  turbid 
stream  of  time.  Presently,  I  shall  be  swallowed  up  in 
that  great  gulf,  and  shall  be  seen,  and  maybe  remembered 
no  more  among  men  forever." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


291 


He  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  cloak  and  walked  out. 
He  was  invoking  his  former  aids  to  come  to  his  assist- 
ance. Pride,  that  almost  curse  of  his  race,  where  art 
thou  now  ?  Why  dost  thou  hang  back  thus  ?  Thy  slave 
needs  thee  ;  come,  put  forth  thy  support.  Alas !  Mari- 
anna  has  murdered  pride  in  that  heart.  Philosophy,  thy 
specious  arguments  do  but  teach  endurance,  patience,  a 
proud  sort  of  self-satisfied  submissiveness,  a  self-glorifica- 
tion in  the  powTer  to  endure  and  defy,  but  do  not  heal 
the  wound.  'Tis  but  cicatriced,  and  the  deep  sore  still 
festers  beneath. 

What  is  it,  then,  poor  maimed  wayfarer  ?  what  dost 
thou  need  ?  Thy  sick  soul  yearns  for  sympathy,  for  love. 
Aye,  for  love  !  Start  not ;  love  has  been  thy  bane,  and 
love  must  be  thy  antidote.  But  love  wisely  the  next  time. 
Set  not  up  in  thy  heart  an  idol  to  rival  God.  Worship 
not  the  creature,  forgetting  the  Creator.  u  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  strength,  heart,  and 
mind.  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods  before  me."  How 
is  it  with  thee,  proud  man,  when  the  still,  small  voice  is 
whispering  these  truths  to  thy  troubled  soul  ?  Dost  thou 
relent?  Wilt  thou  now  tear  away  that  image,  and  give 
thy  heart  to  God  ?  He  thinks  he  would.  He  feels  that 
he  desires  to  understand,  and  would  like  to  appropriate 
these  important  truths.    "  Son,  give  thy  heart  to  God." 

Then  he  exclaims  in  anguish,  "  O  that  I  had  some  one 
to  whom  I  could  trust  to  show  me  the  way."  The  still, 
small  voice  whispered,  "  Stay  thy  soul  on  Christ,  learn  of 
him  ;  thou  needest  no  other  teacher.  Son,  give  thy  heart 
to  God."  That  rebellious  heart  answers,  "  Oh !  I  love 
her  yet.  Tear  her  image  from  my  heart,  and  the  myste- 
rious principle  of  life  is  gone." 

It  has  grown  late,  but  he  does  not  heed  it.  Many  a  lit- 
tle star  has  begun  to  twinkle  and  adorn  the  spacious  fir- 
mament, yet  he  does  not  see  them.  He  at  last  rouses  up, 
and  finds  himself  in  that  portion  of  the  city  where  our 


292 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


story  opens.  He  stops  for  one  moment,  and  muses  before 
that  window.  Again  that  tall  girl  so  closely  veiled  passes 
by ;  he  has  seen  her  at  every  turn,  but  his  thoughts  are 
in  no  condition  to  be  affected  by  externals. 

As  he  moves  along,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  he  is 
startled  by  a  burst  of  rude,  coarse  mirth.  On  looking 
around,  he  perceives  a  knot  of  youths  on  the  left ;  they 
are  amusing  themselves  at  the  expense  of  an  old  woman 
who  has  fallen  to  the  ground.  She  was  coming  from  the 
market,  with  a  heavy  basket  of  provisions  just  purchased, 
when  her  foot  became  entangled  in  the  snare  set  by  those 
brewers  of  mischief,  and  she  falls  heavily,  her  articles  of 
marketing  strewing  the  dirty  earth. 

When  Murray  approached,  he  found  the  old  lady  strug- 
gling to  extricate  herself.  She  could  not  rise  without  aid, 
which  greatly  increased  their  uproarious  shouts  of  mirth 
and  ribaldry. 

"  Shame,  shame  on  you !  dogs,  puppies,  cur  dogs ! 
where  have  you  been  bred  that  you  could  do  such  a  deed, 
and  then  gloat  over  it  ?  "  He  then  very  tenderly  assisted 
the  old  lady  to  her  feet,  commanding  one  of  the  boys  to 
gather  up  the  contents  of  the  basket ;  and  now  perceives 
that  they  are  all  inebriated. 

Looking  mournfully  down  on  them,  he  says,  "  Go  home, 
go  home  and  sleep.  To-morrow  call  at  the  office  of  Charles 
Murray.  I  have  something  of  importance  to  say  to  you 
then."  A  sudden  jerk  of  the  arm  which  had  been  drawn 
through  his,  makes  him  look  inquiringly  into  the  face  of 
the  old  lady,  but  he  sees  naught  expressed  there  but  suf- 
fering.   That  name  had  caused  the  shock. 

"  I  fear,  good  mother,  you  are  injured  ?  Did  I  move 
you  too  roughly  ?  Pardon  me,  I  did  forget,"  and  taking  the 
basket  on  his  arm,  he  said,  u  I  will  see  you  home,  madam." 

u  Oh  no,  sir  !  I  can  not  tax  one  like  you.  Pray,  do  not 
trouble  yourself.  G-ive  me  the  basket  and  accept  my 
warmest  thanks  for  this  timely  aid."    She  attempts  to 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


293 


withdraw  her  arm,  and  holds  out  her  hand  to  receive  the 
basket. 

"  Then,  do  you  reject  my  protection?  Oh,  what  has 
come  over  the  world  !  " 

u  Oh  no,  sir.  I  could  go  down  on  my  knees  to  thank 
you.  But  what  have  the  rich,  and  the  proud,  and  the 
high,  and  the  grand  to  do  with  the  humble,  suffering  poor?" 

u  I  admit  that  they  have  not  half  so  much  to  do  with 
them  as  they  should  have ;  but  1,  not  laying  claim  to  any 
of  these  possessions,  will,  whether  you  consent  or  not, 
protect  you  home.  See,  even  now,  those  poor  infatuated 
creatures,  are  waiting  to  pursue  their  orgies.  They  are 
drunk,  and  did  I  leave  you  they  would  wreak  their  ven- 
geance on  you,  for  having  been  despoiled  of  their  sport." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  G-od  sees,  and  will  reward  this  good  action. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you."  And  the  old  lady  wept. 

M  Good  mother,  you  just  now  spoke  of  God.  Would 
that  I  knew  more  of  Him  than  is  taught  in  the  lofty  edi- 
fices reared  by  man,  more  to  gratify  his  own  vainglorious 
pride,  than  to  honor  the  great  Builder  of  the  Universe. 
Would  that  I  could  feel  his  presence  sometimes,  without 
fear  !  But  I  am  awestruck  when  I  contemplate  that  all- 
pervading,  almighty  Essence.  I  almost  fear  to  invoke 
his  spirit." 

The  old  lady  was  now  all  alive.  The  conventional  bar- 
riers were  broken  down,  and  they  meet  on  equal  grounds. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so ;  "  and  taking 
his  small,  white,  jeweled  hand  in  her  poor,  coarse,  wrin- 
kled one,  she  turned  her  dim  eyes,  which,  are  now  soft 
and  humid,  to  him,  and  said,  "  Oh,  sir,  can  one  so  lowly  as 
I  am,  teach  you  ?    Surely,  you  do  mock  me  ?  " 

"  Ah  no  !  good  mother ;  could  you  look  into  this  heart, 
as  God  is  looking  into  it  even  now,  you  would  pity  me." 

"  And  God  will  pity  you,  sir.  JSTone  of  us  are  so  ready 
to  pity  one  another,  as  '  our  Father  in  heaven  '  is." 

u  Alas !   I  am  afraid.    He  seems  to  be  so  immeasurably 


294 


THE    NIGHT    W ATC H  . 


removed  from  me.  He  is  so  great,  and  pure,  and  holy, 
and  I  am  so  vile  and  abject." 

"  Dear  friend,  you  must  seek  him  through  his  Son. 
None  of  us  dare  approach  a  justly  offended  God,  but 
through  our  friend  in  heaven,  who  is  always  waiting  to 
present  our  petitions  to  his  and  our  Father." 

"  But  are  they  not  the  same ;  one  and  the  same  ?  " 

11  Ah  !  ask  me  not  of  such  subtleties.  I  deal  not  in  them. 
Mine  is  the  simplest  of  all  creeds." 

u  Then  tell  me  of  it,  and  let  me  embrace  it  at  once." 

"  It  is  said  that,  <  we  shall  be  taught  from  the  mouths  of 
babes  and  sucklings,' "  said  she;  "and  weak,  and  unskilled 
as  I  am  in  theology,  I  can  still  testify  to  the  love  of  Christ 
in  the  soul,  which  casteth  out  all  fear,  and  doubt,  and 
darkness.  You  would  no  doubt  think,  sir,  that  one  like 
me,  old,  halt,  and  almost  blind,  and  very  poor  in  this 
world's  gear,  would  have  little  cause  for  rejoicing.  But, 
my  friend,  I  sometimes  feel  such  fullness  of  joy,  such  per- 
fect love  to  Christ,  and  to  the  Father,  and  to  our  fellow- 
travelers  here  below,  that  like  Paul,  I  am  caught  up  to 
the  third  heaven." 

"  But,  mother,  I  have  heard  that  this  sort  of  ecstacy,  this 
state  of  beatitude,  if  you  will,  does  not  last,  and  that  the 
poor  worm  is  furnished  with  wings  to  soar  for  a  short 
while,  then  is  suffered  to  fall  again  to  earth." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  this.  True,  I  do  not  always  see 
God's  countenance  unclouded ;  but,  as  the  hymn  says, 
sometimes, 

'  Behind  a  frowning  providence, 
He  hides  a  smiling  face/ 

But  my  friend,  the  love  of  Christ  sufficeth  us.  And  day 
by  day,  come  w^eal  or  woe,  as  long  as  I  keep  alive  the 
Divine  spark,  I  am  happy.  If  we  have  but  a  crust  in  the 
house,  I  munch  it  in  thankfulness.  If  the  fire  goeth  out, 
and  the  larder  shelves  are  empty,  I  know  that  God's  store- 
house is  the  earth,  and  the  fullness  thereof.    His  supplies 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


295 


have  never  failed  me.  I  never  fear  that  they  will  fail  me. 
I  tell  you,  my  friend,"  and  again  she  pressed  his  hand, 
"  that  he  never  slumbers  or  sleeps,  for  watching  over  the 
fold.  Even  now,  when  my  poor  old  crippled  feet  were 
entangled  in  the  snare  set  for  the  unwary,  did  he  not  send 
succor?  I  am  not  injured.  You  were  his  agent,  and  well 
have  you  discharged  your  duty." 

Murray  is  much  moved,  but  remains  silent. 

"  Once  before,"  continued  the  old  lady,  "  I  experienced 
the  special  care  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  Soon  after  we 
came  to  this  city,  and  after  a  week  of  unprecedented 
hardship,  privation  and  suffering,  we  were  relieved  at  the 
last  hour  by  an  unexpected  hand.  The  sweet  Sabbath 
dawned  on  our  renovated  hopes  and  grateful  hearts.  I 
took  my  little  grandson,  having  attired  ourselves  in  the 
best  clothes  we  had,  and  went  to  one  of  those  stately 
structures  of  which  you  have  just  been  speaking.  On 
arriving  I  applied  to  the  sexton  for  a  seat;  he  glanced 
curiously  at  our  poor  garments,  which  were  the  best  to  be 
found  in  poverty's  wardrobe,  and  then  in  a  supercilious 
way  pointed  to  the  mendicant's  corner.  Well,  friend,  I 
did  not  go  there  to  beg,  but  to  offer  thanksgivings  for 
mercies.  So  I  would  not  take  the  seat.  I  know  not  what 
chance  led  me  to  that  aristocratic  pew ;  but  we  had 
scarcely  gotten  through  the  first  prayer,  when  a  magnifi- 
cent-looking woman,  covered  up  in  fine  raiment  and  furs, 
came,  and  ordered  me  out.  I  got  up  and  moved  down 
the  aisle,  intending  to  take  a  seat  on  the  floor,  that  I 
might  pray  for  the  proud  lady  ere  I  left  the  temple. 
Before  I  reached  the  door  the  Good  Shepherd  sent  his 
angel  to  me,  and  I  was  conducted  back  by  a  fine-looking 
gentleman  (so  said  my  little  grandson,  I  did  not  see  him), 
to  a  magnificent  seat.  Well,  sir,  I  prayed  for  that  proud 
lady  ;  I  prayed  for  that  good  gentleman  ;  I  thought  I  felt 
the  secret  intimation  that  my  petitions,  sooner  or  later, 
would  be  answered.    I  have  faith,  and  do  believe  that  the 


296  THE    NIG  H  T     W  A  T  C  H  . 

arrogant  woman  will  be  brought  to  repentance,  and  that 
good  man  will  reap  the  reward  of  his  good  deed." 

Murray  is  again  greatly  agitated ;  he  takes  out  his 
handkerchief  and  wipes  his  eyes.  The  plaintive  voice, 
the  earnest  and  sincere  manner  of  the  old  lady,  as  she 
talked  of  these  gospel  truths,  smote  the  rock  of  that 
proud  man's  heart,  and  a  fountain  of  tenderness  gushed 
forth. 

They  had  now  arrived  before  the  door  of  Myra's  cot- 
tage, and  there  is  an  embarrassed  pause. 

"  Friend,  circumstances  of  a  very  painful  nature  forbid 
my  asking  you  to  enter  our  house,  just  now." 

"  And  I  could  not,  if  you  did  ask  me,  good  mother." 
He  gives  her  the  basket,  and  then  she  takes  his  hand  and 
says : 

"  Col.  Murray,  I  can  not  find  words  to  express  my 
gratitude.  But  it  will  not  always  be  thus.  There  is  a 
good  spirit  at  w^ork  for  you.  Trust  in  that  friend  whom 
you,  and  I,  and  every  living  sinner,  may  claim  as  his 
own.  He  only  can  make  the  crooked  way  straight. 
'  Trust  and  wait.7  "  She  repeated  the  last  sentence  with 
a  very  peculiar  emphasis. 

When  Murray  arrives  at  home,  he  finds  the  parlor 
occupied  by  a  gay  group.  Gertrude  is  sitting  at  the 
piano ;  the  Governor  and  Mr.  Gaines  are  on  each  side 
of  her.  The  former  hangs  over  the  Siren,  and  breathes 
soft,  delicious  nonsense  into  her  ear ;  the  latter  has  folded 
his  arms,  and  looks  on  with  a  calm,  untroubled  brow  — 
never  moving,  save  to  turn  the  music,  as  she  sings  song 
after  song. 

When  Gertrude  has  played  her  last  waltz,  and  sung 
her  last  song,  she  rises  from  the  instrument,  leaving  her 
distinguished  lover,  and  takes  her  seat  by  Murray.  She 
inquires  after  his  health  with  such  an  ingenuous  look  of 
kindness,  that  he  is  touched ;  looking  into  her  beautiful 
face  (which  is,  at  the  moment,  apparently  free  from  all 


T  H E     NI9HT    W A  T  C  H . 


297 


guile),  he  discovers  nothing  in  it  but  passionate  love 
for  himself.  He  presses  her  hand  and  whispers,  "  God 
forgive  me !  I  do  not  deserve  such  devotion  and  con- 
stancy." 

Maj.  Lindsay  calls  for  Gertrude  ;  he  had  left  her  there 
and  gone  to  his  club.  Some  ladies,  the  Governor,  Mr. 
Gaines,  and  a  few  others,  had  dropped  in  from  their  even- 
ing promenade,  on  hearing  Gertrude's  fine  voice. 

"  Well,  daughter,  shall  we  go  ?  "  said  he.  Murray  rises 
and  offers  his  arm.    The  Governor  steps  up  — 

"  Stop,  sir ;  I  am  opposed  to  a  monopoly,  as  you  once 
said  to  me." 

While  Gertrude  is  drawing  her  splendid  wrappings 
about  her,  some  one  calls  off  the  attention  of  the  Gover- 
nor. Old  Mrs.  Murray  has  Maj.  Lindsay  fast  by  the  but^ 
ton ;  Murray  has  folded  his  arms,  and  Mr.  Gaines  steps 
up  to  her,  and  looking  keenly  at  her,  says,  "  Madam,  let 
me  see  you  home." 

They  reach  there  full  one  hour  before  her  father  comes 
in.  During  that  time,  they  are  engaged  in  a  conversa- 
tion, which  is  so  absorbing  that  they  do  not  see  Ann  as 
she  passes  about,  making  various  pretexts  in  order  to 
look  and  listen. 

Presently  they  hear  the  Major  come  in,  and  Gaines  has 
prepared  himself  for  an  angry  rencounter  of  words  with 
his  master.  Be  it  remembered  that  Maj.  Lindsay  had 
been  to  his  club.  Going  to  that  place  sometimes  makes 
a  man  see  too  well  (double)  ;  sometimes  prevents  him 
from  seeing  at  all  (as  he  should). 

He  comes  blustering  and  reeling  into  the  room.  See- 
ing Ann  there,  he  says : 

"  See  here,  girl,  where  is  that  d  d  interloper?  that 

long-legged  clerk  of  mine?  He  came  home  with  Miss  — 
hiccup  —  Lind  —  hiccup  —  say.   Where  is  that  son  of  a  — 

hiccup  —  of —  of  a  hie  —  d  it,  I  say,  where  is  that 

son  of  a  hie  —  of  a  —  cup.    Where  is  Gaines?    If  I  find 


298 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


him  I'll  make  him  —  hiccup  —  I'll  —  hiccup  —  leave  in 
short  order,"  and  he  storms  at  the  negro,  who  is  bursting 
with  suppressed  mirth. 

"  Marster,  does  you  mean  Mas'r  Josiah  ?  He  didn't 
stop  no  time,  nohow,  at  all.  He's  bin  gwine  away,  '  long 
time  ago,'  as  the  song  says." 

"  It  is  well  for  them  both  that  he  did,"  says  Lindsay ; 
and  he  staggers  up  to  Ann,  and  catches  at  her.  The  girl 
gave  a  little  squeal ;  he  curses  her,  and  then  reels  off  to 
bed,  hie  —  hie  —  hiccuping  all  the  way. 

When  Mrs.  Murray  and  her  son  were  left  alone,  she 
informed  him  that  the  w^edding,  to  suit  the  parties,  had 
been  hastened  a  few  days:  and  such  a  wTedding,  and  such 
a  fete  as  that  would  be,  had  never  before  been  witnessed 

in  the  city  of  .    She  told  him  that  cards  had  been 

sent  to  all  the  old  aristocratic  families  in  the  place,  and 
also  to  other  cities. 

He  listened  to  her  in  moody  silence.  "  Only  two  days 
more  of  freedom  !  Well,  let  it  go  on,  mother.  Why  bother 
me  with  these  details?" 

"  Eemember,  my  son,  there  must  be  no  more  disap- 
pointments;" and  she  fixed  her  basilisk  eyes  on  him, 
while  she  went  on  explaining ;  but  Murray  neither  saw 
the  look,  nor  heard  the  words. 

Presently  he  got  up,  and  wTalked  gloomily  across  the 
room. 

H  Mother,  as  I  have  always  told  you,  arrange  these 
things  to  please  yourself,  Gertrude,  and  Major  Lind- 
say :  as  to  myself,  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  a  party  much 
interested." 

While  all  this  commotion,  bustle,  unrest,  and  discom- 
fort (in  the  way  of  splendid  preparations)  are  going  on 
in  the  two  mansions,  Murray  alone  was  quiet.  There  was 
a  stagnation  of  feeling  —  a  collapse  of  the  heart  —  which 
was  worse  than  acute  suffering.  He  seemed  to  have 
resigned  himself  to  his  fate.    For  two  whole  days  before 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  299 

the  wedding,  he  denied  himself  to  every  one  except  his 
future  father-in-law,  and  his  friend,  Doctor  Brown. 

When  the  latter  entered,  he  found  him  as  usual,  pacing 
the  floor  ;  he  did  not  indulge  in  his  natural  strain  of  bad- 
inage, but  looked  thoughtful  and  very  grave.  At  last  he 
said, 

"  Well,  Murray,  do  you  think  you  will  go  through  with 
it  this  time?  or  shall  we  have  another  break-down?  " 

"  I  presume  my  mother  and  Gertrude  will  carry  out 
their  projects,  now.  If  not,  then  God  help  them  and  me 
too.  They  have  been  caucussing  for  such  a  length  of 
time,  and  those  schemes  have  been  conceiving  for"  

"Ah  yes!"  struck  in  the  doctor,  trying  to  smile,  "they 
must  bring  forth  nowT,  else  there  surely  will  be  an  entire 
abortion." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  will  turn  out ;  I  am  myself  wait- 
ing for  the  denouement,"  rejoined  Murray,  looking  very 
sad. 

"You  are  willing  then,  Conrad,  are  you?  You  want 
this  wedding  to  come  olf,  do  you?  " 

"  I  wish  to  be  at  rest.  I  know  no  quiet ;  have  not  for 
over  a  year." 

"  Minny  passed  last  night  with  Mrs.  Wise,  who  is  sick 
again."  (Murray  trembles,  and  averts  his  face.)  "While 
there,  Myra  received  this  letter.  She  (my  wife)  is,  as  well 
as  myself,  extremely  anxious  to  know  if  you  are  the 
author  of  it?" 

Murray  seems  greatly  surprised,  and  drew  himself  up 
haughtily.  Doctor  Brown  takes  the  letter  from  his 
pocket. 

"  Col.  Murray,  is  this  your  handwriting?"  presenting  it. 
"  Certainly  it  is,  sir,"  said  he,  looking  at  the  super- 
scription. 

"  Open  it,"  added  Brown.  He  did  so,  and  glanced 
carelessly  at  it,  without  reading  a  word ;  and  just  then 
remembering  the  disdainful  response,  said  coldly, 


300 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


u  I  wrote  that  letter,  sir,  why  do  you  ask  ?  What  more 
would  the  lady  have  ?  " 

The  Doctor  saw  that  he  did  not  read  the  letter,  and  felt 
vexed  at  his  indifference.    Eising  abruptly  he  said, 

"  Well !  I  must  say,  it  is  rather  the  coolest  thing  I  have 
yet  witnessed.    Good  morning,  sir." 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  Murray  ;  and  taking  from  a 
basket  two  cards  for  the  wedding,  said,  "  I  hope,  sir,  you 
will  do  me  the  honor  to  bring  your  wife  with  you?v 

"No  sir,  no,  no  sir;  from  this  time,  Col.  Murray,  we 
are  strangers ; "  and  he  laid  the  cards  down  on  the  table 
and  left. 

"  Well,  that  is  certainly  strange  conduct  in  my  old 
friend  ?  I  do  not  know  what  it  means,"  said  Conrad.  In 
fact  I  do  not  know  what  anything  means.  Ere  long  1 
shall  not  be  certain  whether  I  am  awake  or  asleep,  dead 
or  alive." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


301 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  WEDDING. 

"  Fear  ye  the  festal  hour  ? 
Aye  !  tremble  when  the  cup  of  joy  overflows ! 
Tame  down  the  swelling  heart !  the  bridal  rose 
And  the  rich  myrtle  flower  have  veiled  the  sword." 

A  bland  and  beautiful  evening  precedes  the  night  of 
the  wedding,  but  it  is  dark,  very  dark,  where  the  gas  does 
not  prevail.  Maj.  Lindsay's  mansion  looks  like  a  crystal 
palace.    The  scene  is  one  of  enchantment. 

And  now  the  brilliant  crowd  is  assembling.  They  come 
pouring  in  like  a  continuous  stream.  The  rooms  are  full, 
but  not  crammed.  All  are  there ;  the  venerable  clergy- 
man, with  his  long,  graceful  gowm,  sits  ready;  the  com- 
pany is  ready  ;  the  bride  is  ready.  A  slight  nervousness 
seizes  upon  the  guests ;  many  watches  are  covertly  exam- 
ined, and  the  words  buzzed  through  those  gorgeous  saloons, 
"  Ten  o'clock  ;  past  ten  o'clock." 

Let  us  take  a  short  retrospect.  At  nine,  the  Governor 
and  the  other  attendants  had  called  at  the  mansion  of 
Col.  Murray.  They  sent  him  word  that  at  half  past  nine 
his  lady  bride  would  expect  him.  The  carriage  was  drawn 
up  before  the  door. 

Soon  after  this,  Mrs.  Murray  tapped  at  his  door.  She 
found  him  in  his  robe  de  chambre,  ensconced  in  an  easy 
chair,  reading. 

"  Merciful  heavens  !  Charles  Conrad  Murray  !  What 
in  the  name  of  God  are  you  doing?  " 

"  Nothing,  madam." 


302 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  I  see,  sir.    Are  yon  crazy  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  madam.  Do  you  see  any  symptoms  of 
this  calamity?  " 

"  Is  not  this  your  wedding  night?  " 

"  Certainly,  madam,  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  that  untow- 
ard circumstance." 

"  Then  what  are  you  sitting  there  for,  en  dishabille?  " 

"  I  was  waiting  for  my  lady  mother  to  notify  me  of  the 
proper  hour  for  everything.  Will  you  not,  madam,  have 
all  things  done  according  to  the  most  approved  and  politic 
plan  ?  It  is  not  the  first  time  you  have  done  me  this 
honor." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  another  word,  sir.  I  would  have 
you  get  yourself  dressed  and  join  your  friends  in  the  par- 
lor ;  the  Governor  and  your  other  attendants  are  waiting 
for  you  below." 

"Are  they,  madam?  Do  me  the  favor,  then,  to  pull 
the  hell-rope  there  on  your  right.  But  will  you  not  be 
seated,  mother?  You  are  looking  particularly  elegant 
to-night." 

When  the  servant  came,  Murray  looked  at  him  list- 
lessly. u  Well,  James,  your  mistress,  and  my  mother 
wishes  me  to  be  dressed  gorgeously,  no  doubt,  for  this  her 
second  marriage.  Twice  now  has  she  married  me  off 
without  once  gaining  my  consent." 

"  Not  yet,  Mas'r  Charles.  She  aint  not  married  you  up 
but  once  yit  awhile,  and  as  Tivvy  do  say,  '  Dar's  many  a 
cup  'twixt  de  slip  an'  de  lip;7  so  take  heart,  Mas'r  Charlie; 
somethin'  may  turn  up  yit." 

"  Come,  James,  bestir  yourself,  man,  and  let  me  be 
ready  for  whatever  it  shall  be  that  may  turn  up." 

James  was  the  very  prince  of  all  black  valets  de  cham- 
bre.  So  at  ten  o'clock  Col  Murray  entered  the  parlor, 
where  his  coadjutors  had  been  consoling  themselves  for 
the  loss  of  time  with  an  impromptu  bottle  or  two  of  wine. 

When  he  came  among  them,  they  sent  forth  the  most 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


303 


hilarious  shouts  and  congratulations.  They  are  now 
admonished  by  the  head  and  front  of  all  things,  Mrs. 
Murray,  that  it  is  time  to  depart.  So  the  bridegroom 
offered  an  arm  to  his  mother,  hands  her  to  the  carriage, 
then  he  and  his  friends  walked,  feeling  absolute  need  of 
fresh  air,  ere  they  should  be  in  a  condition  to  face  that  bril- 
liant assembly,  and  that  grave  and  reverend  person  with 
black  robe  and  white  bands.  And  now  they  are  there, 
and  the  buzzing  words  have  changed  to,  "  They've  come, 
they've  come." 

Murray  separates  himself  from  his  party,  and  takes  his 
way  to  Gertrude's  boudoir.  He  finds  her  arrayed  in  all 
her  glory,  looking  very  queen-like  and  beautiful.  She  is 
surrounded  by  her  maids  of  honor.  He  goes  up,  kisses 
her,  and  in  a  hurried  voice  desires  her  to  send  a  message 
to  the  gentlemen. 

They  come,  and  now  they  descend  to  the  back  drawing- 
room,  which  has  been  kept  closed  up  to  this  time.  There 
they  arrange  themselves  before  those  great  doors,  reach- 
ing quite  across  the  room,  which  in  a  moment  more  slide 
into  the  walls  as  if  by  magic,  and  that  magnificent  bridal 
party  confront  that  gorgeous  company. 

Col.  Murray  is  very  pale,  but  is  looking  unusually  inter- 
esting and  handsome. 

The  clergyman  meets  them,  opens  the  book,  has  gotten 
through  the  preliminaries,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  he 

will  have  pronounced  those  thrilling  words  w^hen  a 

loud,  prolonged  shriek  is  heard,  succeeded  by  the  appall- 
ing cry  of  "  fire  !  "  It  resounds  through  the  house.  Then 
another  shriek,  and  the  cry,  "  The  gas  !  the  gas  !  A  gas- 
pipe  has  exploded  in  one  of  the  rooms  above,  and  the 
atmosphere  will  ignite,"  screamed  some  half-dozen  voices. 

Nothing,  perhaps,  save  the  "last  trump,"  when  it  shall 
sound,  will  produce  a  greater  panic,  or  take  the  world 
more  by  surprise.  Many  rushed  shrieking  from  the  room, 
some  threw  themselves  from  the  open  windows  ;  nearly 


304 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


all  tried  to  precipitate  themselves  into  the  street.  The 
parson  was  overturned  in  the  melee.  Poor  old  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray was  upset,  and  but  for  the  timely  aid  of  some  friendly 
hand,  would  have  had  that  ingenious  piece  of  frame-work 
totally  demolished.  ISTo  one  now  is  observing  his  neigh- 
bor ;  for  a  season,  curiosity  is  quenched  by  the  stronger 
passion,  fright. 

Murray  stood  with  Gertrude  on  his  arm,  like  one 
entranced.  Presently,  Mr.  Gaines  whispers  in  her  ear ; 
then  she  unclasps  her  hands  from  that  fond  hold,  and  he 
leads  her  away.  And  now  Murray  rushes  from  the  room, 
but  not  to  the  street;  he  goes  to  see  what  can  be  done  to 
save  the  house. 

When  he  reaches  the  hall  above,  he  finds  that  portion 
of  the  mansion  in  total  darkness.  What  a  change,  from 
a  moment  before  !  As  he  descends,  a  tall  figure,  com- 
pletely muffled,  touches  his  arm,  and  whispers,  "  Come, 
there  is  nothing  the  matter  here.  I  am  waiting  for  thee  ; 
follow  me  quickly,  else  we  shall  be  too  late." 

He  instinctively  obeys  her.  She  glides  rapidly  on 
before  him.  They  leave  the  house  and  that  quarter  of 
the  lighted  city,  and  plunge  into  darkness.  A  hundred 
fire-bells  seem  to  be  ringing;  an  hundred  hundred  of 
people  seem  to  be  running,  and  jostling,  and  falling,  and 
getting  up,  and  crying,  and  screaming,  but  all  tending  in 
one  direction ;  and  now  the  engines  come  rushing  and 
tearing  by. 

He  has  followed  the  veiled  figure  without  question. 
Onward,  onward  they  go.  And  now  they  come  to  the 
scene  of  action.  A  cottage,  standing  a  little  apart  from 
the  other  buildings,  is  on  fire.  It  seems  to  be  too  far 
gone  to  claim  the  attention  of  the  red-fiannel-shirted 
crew,  whose  efforts  are  directed  to  protecting  the  adjacent 
buildings.  All  this  was  taken  in  by  Murray,  at  one 
coup  oV  ceil.  The  veiled  figure  says  to  him,  as  she  shakes 
him  violently : 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


305 


"  Bouse  up,  now  ;  thou  hast  no  time  to  dream  !  Plunge 
into  the  flames,  and  save  Marianna  Glencoe  ! " 
u  Great  God  !  what  do  I  hear  !  " 

u  Lose  no  time  in  idle  exclamations  or  queries.  This 
was  her  abode.  See  there  !  The  good  Murdoch  is  bear- 
ing out  the  old  lady,  and  Dr.  Brown  has  the  child ;  but 
where  is  poor  Marianna?  When  thou  hast  found  her, 
come  not  this  way,  for  ravening  beasts  are  waiting  to 
seize  upon  you  both  ;  but  come  out  into  the  back-court. 
I  will  be  there  to  receive  you,  and  bear  you  to  a  place  of 
safety.  Mind  my  injunctions  ;  come  not  this  way."  She 
throws  a  woolen  shawl  over  his  head,  and  draws  it  ten- 
derly about  his  face,  saying,  "  Poor  fellow !  I  would  shield 
thee  from  this,  too,  an  I  could,  but  I  must  be  obeyed  to 
the  letter,  else  all  is  lost." 

A  piercing  wail  is  now  heard  through  the  crowd — "  My 
mother !  Where  is  my  mother  ?  Who  will  go  with  me 
to  save  my  mother?" 

The  child  was  caught  up  by  the  veiled  figure,  and  at  that 
moment  Murray  rushes  frantically  into  the  burning  pile, 
and  disappears  amid  reverberating  shouts  of  admiration 
and  groans  of  horror.  u  The  lady  !  the  lady  !  "  is  echoed 
through  the  crowd;  the  child  has  extricated  himself  from 
those  kind  arms,  and  would  have  followed  Murray,  but 
the  figure  again  seizes  him,  saying,  "  Keep  still,  my 
darling,  they  shall  save  thy  mother." 

Scarcely  had  the  flames  closed  over  the  head  of  the 
poor  fellow,  before  Murdoch  comes  up  to  Leah,  and  whis- 
pers, "Where  is  he?" 

She  points  to  the  burning  pile.  "  There,  gone  to  save 
Mari"  

u  Great  God  !  girl,  what  have  you  done  !  She  is  not 
there,  and  he  will  perish."  Snatching  up  a  blanket,  he 
wraps  it  about  his  head,  and  plunged  also  into  the  fire. 

"Now,  may  the  God  of  Jacob  help  them  both,  else  are 
they  lost !  " 

26 


306 


T  II  E     N  J  G  II  T  WATCH. 


The  girl  had  not  more  than  uttered  this  thrilling  cry, 
when  the  roof  fell  in,  and  all  is  one  masss  of  blazing 
wood,  and  soon  after  a  smoldering  ruin. 

Then  a  prolonged  groan  convulses  that  crowd,  which 
at  last  finds  vent  in  the  cry  of  u  Oh  !  they  have  perished  ! 
Oh !  most  horrible !  Poor  fellows,  they  are  lost !  they 
are  burned  alive  !  " 

Leah  gives  the  child  to  a  bystander,  writh  directions  to 
carry  him  immediately  to  Dr.  Brown's.  Then  she  darts 
into  the  dark  alley  leading  to  the  back  court,  where  she 
had  placed  persons  to  await  her  coming.  When  there, 
she  finds  herself  quite  alone.  There  is  nothing  to  be 
seen  but  flying  red-hot  fragments  and  blazing  cinders. 
There  is  no  one  waiting  for  her  in  that  fearful  place  ;  the 
carriage  is  not  there,  as  she  directed. 

She  screams,  all  brave  and  enduring  as  she  is,  with 
alarm  and  anguish.  Her  shoes,  which  were  silk,  are 
burned  from  her  feet,  and  now  she  tramples,  barefoot,  on 
red-hot  coals.  Yet  she  stands  there  for  several  moments, 
insensible  to  physical  pain  ;  so  utterly  overwhelmed  is 
she  at  the  apparent  destruction  of  three  persons  in  whom 
she  wras  so  deeply  interested :  then  she  turns  away,  "  a 
puir  heart-broken  thing." 

The  panic  at  that  festive  mansion  has  subsided  ;  some 
few  persons  have  had  presence  of  mind  and  courage  to 
explore  the  rooms  above,  and  find  that  the  cause  of  alarm 
wras  a  false  one  in  the  main.  The  accidental,  or  premedi- 
tated expenditure  of  gas  had  filled  the  rooms  with  that 
noxious  stench,  which  none  can  inhale  long  and  live. 
This  is  all  that  has  yet  transpired  to  the  guests  below. 
Those  who  had  ventured  in  their  wedding  garments  to  the 
place  of  actual  distress,  had  returned,  and  reported  that 
it  was  nothing  only  a  cottage  of  some  poor  person  —  a  mil- 
liner or  dressmaker  had  her  house  burned  down,  and  had 
perished  herself  in  the  fire. 

"  Oh  well,  if  that's  all,"  said  the  leaders  of  ton,  "then 


T  II  E    NIGH  T     W  A  T  G  H  . 


307 


let  the  festivities  proceed."  The  Minister  is  still  there, 
looking  very  plaintive  and  martyr-like  since  his  over- 
throw from  his  arm  chair.  The  bride  is  there,  in  her 
vestal  robes,  so  pure  and  white.  The  father  is  there  to 
give  her  away ;  and  hundreds  of  friends,  as  friends  go 
on  such  occasions,  are  there,  smiling  obsequiously  and 
parasitically,  all  waiting  to  offer  congratulations,  but  more 
specially  to  enter  on  the  pleasures  of  the  fete. 

"  Come,  let  the  ceremony  go  forward/'  said  the  father, 
glancing  at  his  watch.  "It  is  now  near  twelve  o'clock, 
and  the  repast  is  yet  untasted  ;  and  still  worse,  but  few 
of  those  rare  juices  have  been  imbibed.  Why,  friends, 
we  shall  scarce  have  time  to  test  the  merits  of  either  table 
or  sideboard.  Where  is  Murray  ?  Where  is  my  son  elect? 
Murray,  Colonel  Murray,"  called  the  mirth -loving  host. 
"  Why,  man,  come  on  ;  you  mar  our  sports,  and  delay  the 
festivities,  instead  of  leading  the  way,  and  teaching  us  how 
to  sacrifice  in  spirit  and  in  snhstavre  to  the  jolly  God.  I  tell 
you  now,  sirs,  the  'Old  Grey-Beard  Bacchus'  will  not  be 
cheated  thus,  without  reprisal." 

"What  ho!  Murray!  Conrad!  Charles  Murray !  wrhere 
are  you,  my  son?  Come,  we  are  waiting  to  be  gracious." 

Major  Lindsay  passed  through  the  gorgeous  scene  with 
an  easy  careless  gait  (peculiar  to  persons  who  have  been 
always  rich),  and  called  on  the  bridegroom  in  a  jocose 
voice,  and  with  a  merry  twinkle  of  the  eye,  stopping  anon 
to  jest  with  some  congenial  chum  on  the  subject.  u  But 
he  comes  not." 

A  buzz,  a  wl  isper,  a  murmured  conjecture,  swell  into  a 
full  tide  of  curiosity,  and  love  of  wonder,  with  the  words, 
"He  is  not  here  ;  where  can  he  be  gone?  "  One  has  seen 
him  jump  out  of  the  window  on  the  first  note  of  alarm. 
Another  has  seen  him  rush  from  the  street  door.  Some 
few  saw  him  stealing  up  stairs.  All  saw  him  standing 
before  the  parson,  beside  his  bride  :  but  none  saw  the 
truth.    None  had  seen  him  leave  the  house  by  the  back- 


308 


THE    NIGHT  WxlTCH. 


door  with  that  tall  girl  so  closely  veiled.  Yet  there  was 
one  who  did  see  this.  One  pair  of  calm,  steel-like  grey 
eyes  saw  it  all.  The  same  hand  which  drew  that  beauti- 
ful bride  away  from  the  side  of  her  majestic  bridegroom 
had  something  to  do  with  the  turning  on  of  too  much 
of  that  noisome  fluid.  He  alone  saw  Murray  leave  the 
house. 

Messenger  after  messenger  is  dispatched  in  all  direc- 
tions, through  the  long  suit  of  rooms  above  and  below, 
to  his  own  house,  everywhere ;  but  as  yet  there  is  no 
trace  of  him. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Governor  flirts  as  usual,  with  Ger- 
trude. He  is  again  pouring  into  her  ears  the  insidious 
language  of  adulation  ;  uttering  protestations  which  were 
as  factitious  as  the  hearts  of  the  aristocratic  guests,  who 
with  the  host  and  the  little  great  man,  the  clever  Gov- 
ernor, had  not  failed  to  attest  their  devotion  to  his 
Godship. 

Miss  Lindsay  is  seated  on  an  ottoman  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  with  a  crowd  of  admirers  around  her.  The  big 
man  of  the  evening  is  hanging  over  her,  seeming  to  gloat 
on  her  exposed  and  transparent  charms.  She  is  indeed 
looking  delicious.  He  forgets  himself,  and  in  rather  too 
distinct  a  whisj^er  murmurs,  "  My  angel  !  you  had  better 
reward  some  one  of  your  faithful  servants,  and  leave  that 
erratic  orbitless  star  to  his  fate,  which  must  sooner  or 
later  explode,  or  set  to  rise  no  more.  It  is  a  sin  to  throw 
away  such  charms  on  that  passionless  man.  He  is  totally 
insensible  to  the  value  of  such  a  possession." 

O  "  spirit  of  wine  !  "  she  owes  this  to  thee.  The  girl 
felt  what  the  excited  man  said.  Had  he  searched  through 
an  hundred  vocabularies,  he  could  not  have  found  words 
more  suited  to  her  case,  or  better  to  embody  her  senti- 
ments, as  well  as  so  acceptable  and  soothing  to  her  morti- 
fied vanity  and  wounded  pride.  She  looked  lovingly  up 
into  his  face,  she  inclines  her  person  toward  the  lascivious 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


309 


little  man,  she  even  offers  a  soft,  tender  response.  Then 
the  Governor  whispered  something  which  none  could  hear, 
and  the  lady  raised  her  flushed  face  and  burning  eyes  to 
his. 

The  inspiring  sound  of  violins  is  now  heard  from  the 
dancing  saloon,  and  as  the  Governor  gives  his  hand  to 
Gertrude  to  lead  her  to  the  floor,  she  once  more  encoun- 
ters the  deep,  earnest  gaze  of  Mr.  Josiah  Gaines  fixed  upon 
her.  Those  eyes  seem  ever  to  have  had  a  peculiarly  pene- 
trating power.  That  one  steadfast  look  has  probed  the  hid- 
den places  of  that  vain,  wreak  heart,  and  brought  up  the 
secret.  It  is  written  on  that  blanched  cheek,  and  revealed 
from  those  timid,  cowering  eyes. 

A  few  cotillions,  and  as  many  waltzes,  are  gotten 
through  with,  not  trippingly  "  on  the  light,  fantastic  toe," 
but  heavily  and  mechanically.  The  genius  of  mirth 
seemed  to  have  been  frightened  away.  Nor  would  Terp- 
sichore deign  to  preside  over  such  soulless  offerings. 
Maj.  Lindsay  gave  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Murra}',  and  they  lead 
the  way  to  the  banquet.  Time  will  not  serve  me  to  tell 
of  all  the  luxuries  and  dainty  dishes  of  meats,  cakes, 
confections,  fruits,  wines,  etc.  Pyramid  upon  pyramid 
of  bride's  cake  rises  in  stupendous  grandeur,  as  monu- 
ments now  of  the  uncertainty  of  all  earthly  plans,  the 
precarious  tenure  of  all  worldly  hopes.  A  whole  heca- 
tomb of  birds  have  been  sacrificed.  Turkies  w7hich,  from 
their  size,  looked  as  if  they  might  have  been  patriarchs 
over  many  generations  of  pee-pees,  were  flanked  by  gan- 
ders who  had  stood  sentinel  during  the  halcyon  days  of 
many  a  grey  goose,  whose  heads  are  all  now  laid  low. 
Alack-a-day  !  this  dreadful  onslaught :  and  for  what  ? 
To  commemorate  an  event  which  only  goes  to  confirm  the 
truism,  that  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 

The  champagne  foams  and  sparkles.  Glass  after  glass  is 
drunk  in  token  of  admiration  to  the  goddess  of  beauty,  and 
in  honor  of  the  prince  of  good  cheer.  Maj.  Lindsay.  At  last, 


310 


T  HE    N  I  G  H  T  WATCH. 


the  anxious  expression  of  every  face  seems  to  be  yielding  to 
this  genial  influence.  The  somber  demon  has  been  exor- 
cised, and  in  his  stead  reigns  a  spirit  of  mad  mirth  —  a 
simultaneous  desire  to  indulge  deeply,  unsparingly,  reck- 
lessly in  pleasure  :  a  unanimous  disposition  to  banish  care 
is  now  manifest,  and  well  have  many  of  them  succeeded. 
Already  are  they  oblivious  of  that  which  should  have 
marred  such  unholy  orgies.  But  the  audience  had  been 
despoiled  of  the  play,  the  pageant,  in  the  way  laid  down 
in  the  programme,  and  now  the  reaction  is  taking  place 

"  This  is  certainly  a  very  brilliant,  joyous,  hilarious,  and 
rather  too  uproarious  assembly  of  wit,  beauty,  and  non- 
sense," said  the  calm,  dignified  Doctor  Mercer,  alias  the 
parson,  to  his  wife,  as  they  stood  apart  from  the  revel, 
and  looked  on  in  silent  amazement. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  lady,  "  what  children  !  In  the  exciting 
bowl  they  have  already  forgotten  the  missing  bridegroom." 

"Hist!  hist!  listen!  What  sound  is  that?"  .  'Not 
louder  at  first  than  the  buzzing  of  the  drowsy  insect,  but 
it  swells.  Why  is  there  a  suspension  of  all  pursuit  ?  Why 
are  those  delightful  little  giggles  suppressed?  —  those 
whispered  vows  of  love  in  beauty's  ear,  and  the  respon- 
sive protestation  breathed  up  to  luxuriant  moustache  and 
whiskers  ?  Why  are  they  arrested  ?  Why  is  that  cup 
dashed  before  it  reaches  the  lips  ?  And  above  all,  wThy  is 
that  sweet  morsel  which  has  been  rolled  under  the  tongue 
so  impatiently  for  the  last  hour,  that  piece  of  honeycomb, 
that  delightful  little  scandal,  forgotten  ?  Why  that  shriek, 
and  that  sinking  form?  That  indistinct  murmur  has 
again  formed  itself  into  words,  which  have  reached  the 
ears  of  the  mother  —  her  son  is  dead.  Col.  Murray  was 
seen  to  rush  into  the  blazing  pile,  which  soon  after  became 
a  mass  of  living  fire.  There  had  been  no  chance  for 
escape  ;  he  had  perished. 

Mrs.  Murray's  lifeless  body  was  borne  to  her  own  dwell- 
ing, and  a  message  dispatched  for  the  family  physician, 


THE    NIGHT     WATCH.  *  311 

Doctor  Gabriel  Brown.  In  the  meantime,  while  Tivvy 
and  James  are  hanging  over  their  mistress,  and  a  few 
persons,  either  out  of  compassion  for  human  suffering 
-generally,  or  maybe  idle  curiosity,  are  trying  to  restore 
the  imperious  old  woman,  let  us  return  to  the  festive  hall. 

On  hearing  this  stunning  report,  the  Governor,  who 
really  was  attached  to  Murray,  left  Gertrude  standing  at 
the  table,  the  glass  of  champagne  raised,  but  untasted, 
and  hastened  out  to  learn  more  fully  of  this  horror.  All 
eyes  are  now  turned  on  the  bride.  She  does  not  shriek, 
she  does  not  faint,  she  utters  no  word ;  she  is  very  pale, 
and  her  eyes  are  distended  and  glaring.  There  she 
stands,  so  beautiful  and  statuesque.  Horror  seems  to  have 
frozen  her.  Those  terrible  words  have  surely  petrified  her. 
She  moves  not,  speaks  not,  does  not  so  much  as  breathe  a 
sigh.  Every  one  views  her  with  amazement,  but  none  care 
enough  for  the  haughty  beauty  to  put  forth  a  finger  to 
touch  and  rouse  her  from  that  catalepsy. 

Major  Lindsay  had  also  left  the  house,  perhaps  like  the 
Governor,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure  by  being  a  wit- 
ness of  the  dreadful  spectacle.  They  doubted  not  that 
the  charred  and  mutilated  body  of  the  glorious  Murray 
would  be  wrested  from  the  fire  ere  it  was  consumed.  All 
is  commotion  and  noise  in  that  banquet  room. 

Mr.  Gaines  steps  up  to  Miss  Lindsay,  touches  her  arm, 
and  taking  the  glass  from  her  hand,  says,  "  Madam,  had 
you  not  better  retire  ? ,? 

i:  Sir?"  said  she,  looking  vacantly  in  his  face. 

"  I  say,  would  it  not  be  pleasanter  to  withdraw  from 
the  rude  gaze  of  the  curious?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  said  she,  looking  around  timidly ;  u  but 
where  is  Gov.  ;  he  is  to  meet  me  at  three"  

"  Silence,  madam  ;  would  you  furnish  more  food  for 
gossip?  " 

He  took  her  hand,  and  led  her  from  the  place  like  a 
child.    When  they  were  in  the  adjoining  room,  he  rang 


312 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


the  bell  furiously.  Ann  came  in ;  lie  whispered  to  her 
for  some  time,  then  said,  "  Do  not  on  your  life,  Ann,  leave 
her  a  moment,  or  admit  any  one  to  her,  not  even  her 
father,  unless  forced  to  it,  till  I  come.  Now,  girl,  remem- 
ber. Aye!  Kemember !  "  He  repeated  this  word  in  a 
voice  as  solemn  and  ominous  as  did  poor  Charles  the 
First.  After  which,  he  spoke  out  in  a  loud,  careless 
tone — 

"Ann,  conduct  Miss  Lindsay  to  her  room,"  and 
turned  away. 

The  company  had  now  dispersed ;  a  neighboring  clock 
rung  out  three  ;  Mr.  Gaines  alone  remained.  As  he  strode 
through  those  gorgeous,  but  desolate  rooms,  he  uncon- 
sciously hums,  "  Oft  in  the  stilly  night."  Then  looking 
around,  moodily  folds  his  arms  and  sings  while  he 
walks,  smiling  sardonically — 

"I  feel  like  one  who  treads  alone,  some  banquet  hall  deserted; 
Whose  lights  are  fled,  whose  garlands  dead, 
And  all  but  me  departed/-' 

Then  hearing  some  one  enter,  he  ensconces  himself  behind 
a  folding  door,  and  curiously  peers  out. 

Major  Lindsay  comes  in,  throws  himself  into  an  arm 
chair,  covers  his  face  wTith  his  hands,  and  weeps.  After 
indulging  this  silent  grief,  he  adds :  "Poor  fellow!  poor 
Murray  !  To  be  cut  off  thus  in  his  prime  !  To  be  sepa- 
rated from  his  bride  just  then  !  Ah  yes  !  he  obeyed  the 
summons,  and  'left  his  bride  at  the  altar.'  And  for 
what  ?  To  immolate  himself  to  an  abstract  principle  of 
good.  What  was  that  milliner  woman  to  him  ?  Nothing  ! 
But  universal  philanthrophy  prompted  him  to  all  good 
deeds.  O  my  son  !  my  noble,  my  magnanimous  son  !  I 
shall  never,  never  again,  see  thy  equal  !  Never  again  find 
one  to  fiil  thy  vacant  place  in  this  heart."  He  smites  his 
breast.  "Poor  Gertrude!  poor  girl !  poor  bereaved  bride  ! 
in  my  own  selfish  grief,  I  had  forgotten  thy  greater  sor- 
row7 !    Poor  thing,  I  almost  fear  to  see  thee  !  " 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


313 


He  rises,  and  takes  a  few  turns  through  the  rooms; 
sometimes  almost  touching  Mr.  Gaines.  Then  exclaims 
in  a  very  sad  voice,  "  Well !  I  will  go  to  poor  Gertrude  ; 
I  will  say  what  I  can  to  comfort  her !  Perchance  I  may 
hit  upon  the  right  words.  If  not,  then  we  can  mingle 
our  tears  together.''  He  leaves  the  room. 

No  sooner  had  he  gone  than  Josiah  rings  a  small  hand 
bell,  and  Eobert  enters. 

"  Well,  Eobert,  what  news?" 

"  Not  much,  sir  ;  I  did  as  you  told  me/' 

"Well." 

"  I  followed  the  Governor  down  thar." 
"  Well." 

"  Then  I  followed  him  back,  but  he  could'nt  hardly 
walk,  sir." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  Eobert,  you  played  your  part  well.? 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  put  all  that  morphinous  stuff  in  the  bottle 
of  sherry,  as  you  told  me  to  ;  then  I  set  it  right  on  the 
sideboard,  whar  I  know'd  Marster  and  the  Governor 
would  come  to  swig  it,  and  so  they  did  sure  'nough.  But 
Marster  perfers  champagne  hisself,  and  the  Governor 
does  love  sherry,  and  that's  the  fact.  Well!  I  declare, 
Marster  Josiah,  I  thought  the  man  was  gwine  to  go  fast 
asleep  on  the  ground,  when  he  stood  there,  with  his  eyes 
fast  shut,  gazing  on  that  burning  house." 

"  Well,  what  now?" 

"Well,  that's  all." 

"  Why,  did  you  leave  him  standing  there?" 

u  Oh  no,  sir;  I  tetched  him  on  the  arm,  and  tetching  my 
hat  at  the  same  time,  I  axed  him  ef  he  hadn't  better  go 
home  ?  And  as  you  told  me,  I  enquired  ef  he  warnt  gwine 
back  to  see  Miss  Guttrude?  Then  he  cuss  me,  and  say, 
1  Eobert,  what  the  devil  do  I  want  with  your  Miss  Gut- 
trude or  any  other  gal  in  my  condition  ? '  I  say  to  him, 
'  She  'spects  you,  sir.'  Then  he  say,  1  Expects  hell  fire  :  I 
don't  doubt  ft,  knave.  But  I'm  not  going,  and  more  than 
•  27 


314  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

that,  I  never  meant  to  go.'  Then  he  cuss  me,  and  drive 
me  off.  Then  he  call  me  back,  and  he  say,  £  Here,  my 
good  Robert,  take  this  dollar,  and  when  you  go  home,  tell 
your  young  mistress  that  I  am  very  sick,  mighty  sick.1 
Then  he  stumble  long,  till  he  git  to  the  'zecutive  mansion, 
and  that's  the  last  of  that  poor  man,  as  I  knows  of." 

Eobert  puts  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  takes  out  the 
dollar  which  the  Governor  had  given  him,  exclaiming, 
"  Lors  a  marcy !  bress  my  soul !  Look  a  here  Mas'r 
Gaines,  this  is  pure  gold!    How  much  is  it,  Mas'r  Joe?" 

"It  is  only  fifty  dollars,  Eobert." 

"  Oh  marcy  !  Then  I  must  go  this  minit,  and  carry  it 
back  to  him,  musn't  I  Mas'r  Gaines  ?  Would'nt  that  be 
right?" 

"  Yes,  Robert,  but  you  hav'nt  time  now.  Here  is  another 
piece  like  it.  And  now  attend  closely  to  what  I  am  about 
to  tell  you :  and  if  you  obey  me  to  the  letter,  and  prove 
trustworthy  throughout,  it  will  no  doubt  lead  to  your  free- 
dom." Then  he  explained  to  the  negro  very  minutely  his 
plans — to  which  he  readily  assents. 

"  Then  put  these  things  a  little  to  rights.  Eeduce  the 
light  in  that  burner,  and  extinguish  those  in  the  hall. 
When  you  have  done  all,  wait  my  further  orders  here.  I 
shall  go  out  for  a  short  time."  He  left,  closing  and  lock- 
ing the  street  door. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Maj.  Lindsay  had  left  the 
parlor  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  G-ertrude  in  her  boudoir. 
When  he  reached  the  door,  he  hesitated,  saying  to  himself, 
"I'll  be  cursed  if  I  don't  dread  it."  He  knocks  softly; 
then  answers  to  the  gentle  "  Come,"  by  opening  the  door. 
He  found  his  daughter  standing  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
as  if  awaiting  him. 

"  Ah,  poor  child  !  expecting  your  father?  Waiting  for 
him  ?  Well,  poor  girl,  you  still  have  one  true  heart  left 
to  love  you.  Come  to  your  father's  arms,  and  let  him  tell 
you  how  he  loves  and  at  the  same  time  pities  you." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  315 


"Pities!  pities  me!  Did  you  use  that  word,  sir?  I 
think  he  would  hardly  venture  on  such  an  experiment. 
No,  no,  my  father,  he  had  better  not  talk  of  pity  to  Ger- 
trude Lindsay.  I  believe  he  does  love  me  ;  he  has  told  me 
so  a  thousand  times,  and  to-night  he  has  again  reiterated 
this,  and  made  honorable  proposals,  and"  

64  What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about,  Gertrude?  Have 
you  lost  your  senses?  Who?  What,  in  the  fiend's  name, 
do  you  mean  ? 

u  Why,  sir,  may  I  inquire  what  you  mean  ?  Not  a  mo- 
ment ago,  did  you  not  tell  me  that  he  loved  me,  which  I 
have  long  known  ;  and  when  I  agree  to  accept  his  love, 
because  I  spurn  his  pity,  is  it  thus  you  rate  me?  " 

Maj.  Lindsay  rises  from  the  seat  into  which  he  had 
dropped,  and  stands  before  her. 

u  Now,  once  for  all,  Miss  Lindsay,  I  wish  to  be  informed 
of  the  meaning  of  this  enigmatical  tirade.  Else,  I  shall 
be  convinced  in  my  mind,  that  your  senses  have  become 
unsettled  by  the  great  calamity  which  has  fallen  upon  us  ; 
and  must  consequently  give  orders  to  have  you  conveyed 
to  the  white  house  upon  the  hill  forthwith,  if  I  am  forced 
so  to  think." 

"  It  is  thus  1  am  forced  to  think  of  you,  sir.  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  be  convinced  to  the  contrary.  But  to  con- 
vince you  that  I  am  as  sane  as  ever  I  was,  I  will  consent 
to  gratify  you  by  a  few  details  of  facts. 

"  I  meant  Governor  ,  and  it  was  of  him  I  supposed 

you  spoke,  when  you  made  that  declaration.  If  not  of 
him,  then  of  whom  did  you  speak  ?  May  I  beg  to  be 
informed?  " 

"  Deluded  girl !  He  cares  more  for  politics  and  popu- 
larity, than  for  ten  thousand  Miss  Lindsays.  I  spoke  of 
myself." 

The  lady  looks  troubled  and  disappointed,  continues  to 
watch  the  door,  and  seems  to  be  all  the  time  in  the  atti- 
tude of  listening. 


316 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  Gertrude,  I  came  here  to  mourn  with  you.  I  hoped 
we  might  console  each  other  for  the  ioss  of  my  lamented 
friend,  and  your  affianced  husband.  But  strange,  heart- 
less girl  that  you  are,  I  find  you  already  prating  about 
some  new  lover." 

"  Well,  and  where  is  the  bonny  bridegroom,  sir?  " 

"  I  hope  he  is  in  heaven  ere  this." 

"  Ah  !  now,  my  father,  you  are  the  poor,  deluded 
one." 

"  Why  so  ?  hundreds  of  persons  saw  him  rush  into  the 
furnace  of  fire,  to  save  a  poor  creature  whom  he  did  not 
know  or  care  about,  other  than  from  pure  benevolence. 
A  poor  milliner,  I'm  told,  who  "  

u  Never  mind  about  being  explicit,  sir.  I  know  all  about 
it.    That  woman  has  been  his  paramour  for  years." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"It  is,  nevertheless,  true,  sir.    True  as  holy  writ." 

u  Well,  what  of  it?  Methinks  your  woman's  heart  — 
that  is,  if  you  are  a  woman,  and  have  a  heart  —  must 
needs  acknowledge  the  magnanimity  of  such  a  deed,  and 
could  but  mourn  over  such  a  catastrophe." 

"  Would  you  have  me  grieve  for  one  wTho  cares  not  for 
me?  who  has  trifled  with  me  —  disappointed  me?  who 
for  years,  has  wantonly  sported  with  my  feelings  ?  Pre- 
ferring that  humble  creature — .that  obscure,  low-born, 
unknown  woman,  to  Gertrude  Lindsay?  I  tell  you,  sir, 
his  heart  was  never  in  this  marriage  !  He  never  loved 
me  !    He  did  but  yield  himself  to  a  necessity!  " 

"Fool!  What  necessity  was  there?  what  compulsion 
could  there  be,  or  other  motives  than  love  and  pride,  to 
marry  the  heiress  of  the  house  of  Lindsay?  Speak,  girl — 
explain." 

"I  have  said,  sir"  

"  Girl,  you  have  not!  You  dare  not  look  me  in  the  face 
and  tell  me  that  you  have  laid  him  under  this  necessity; 
or,  by  all  the  gods !  I  will  strangle  you  where  you  sit. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


317 


Have  you  yielded  yourself  to  this  man,  Gertrude  ?  "  look- 
ing fiercely  at  her,  and  approaching  her  menacingly. 

She  rises  with  great  dignity,  and  in  passing  him,  says, 
coldly : 

"  Peace !  peace,  sir!  I  am  in  all  things  exactly  worthy 
of  just  such  a  father.  But  you  have  misconceived  me. 
I  meant,  though,  what  is  most  strangely  true,  Conrad 
Murray  is,  from  some  mysterious  cause,  so  completely 
under  the  domination  of  that  skillful  piece  of  patchwork, 
his  detestable  old  mother,  that  I  believe  he  would  sacri- 
fice his  life,  rather  than  oppose  or  disobey  her.  Besides 
his  fortune  is  broken,  and  needs  propping.  He  knows 
that,  without  some  such  adjunct,  he  must,  ere  long,  appear 
before  the  world  bankrupt.  Yet  I  must  do  him  the  jus- 
tice to  say,  that  this  marriage  was  none  of  his  seeking." 
And  she  turns  moodily  away. 

m  Why,  then,  did  you  consent  to  marry  him?" 
'  Because  I  loved  him  from  the  first  moment  I  ever  saw 
him,  wildly!  madly!  absorbingly!  idolatrously !  sinfully!" 

"  Wretched  girl  !    How  could  you  love  unsought?  " 

"  Go  ask  the  winds  why  they  blow?  why  the  torrents 
roar?  why  wild  beasts  prowl,  and  old  ocean  swells  and 
surges  ?  Can  ye  stop  and  stem  their  course  ?  Then  no 
more  could  I  quell  the  passion  which  boiled  and  raged  in 
my  heart  for  that  man.  They  perform  their  functions 
and  obey  their  instincts,  and  thereby  fulfill  their  destinies ; 
and  so  shall  I  mine.  Father,  leave  me  alone !  I  would 
sleep." 

"  Poor  girl !  and  he  deceived  you,  when  you  loved  him 
so  much  ?    Curse  him!    I'm  glad  he  is  burned  alive." 

"Now,  again,  you  are  at  fault,  sir.  Col.  Murray  is  not 
dead.  Ere  the  week  passes  he  will  be  here  again.  And 
now,  hear  me,  father ;  I  swear  by  all  the  saints  and  angels, 
and  all  other  holy  things  in  heaven  !  as  well  as  by  all  the 
evil  things  in  hell !  that  Conrad  Murray  shall  never  again 
look  upon  the  face  of  Gertrude  Lindsay." 


318 


T  HE    NIGH  T  WATCH. 


"  Why  you  would  not  lay  violent  hands  on  yourself?" 

"  Oh  no  !  but  remember  my  words.  Come,  father,  it  is 
late.    I  must  retire." 

She  kisses  him,  and  attends  him  to  his  sleeping-room. 
On  returning,  she  stands  before  the  mirror  for  a  moment, 
tosses  back  her  graceful  ringlets,  and,  with  a  smile  of 
complacency,  soliloquizes:  "I  do  believe,  as  everybody 
tells  me,  that  I  am  very  beautiful,  and  not  yet  in  my 
zenith.  I  have  wealth,  which  is  power!  Aye!  yes! 
and  one  or  the  other  of  us  shall  rue  the  events  of  this 
night!" 

She  hears  a  soft  step  in  the  entry,  and,  as  the  door 
opens,  springs  forward,  exclaiming, 

"  My  dear  Governor !  I  have  been  waiting  so  long  to 
see  you  —  until  I  am  half  dead !  "  She  throws  herself  into 
the  arms  of  Mr.  Josiah  Gaines.  Not  meeting  the  ardent 
embrace  which  she  expected,  she  raised  her  eyes  and 
would  have  shrieked,  but,  in  a  dry,  quiet  tone,  he  says : 

" Better  not — better  not  make  a  noise;  take  things 
easy  now,  else  you  might  bring  your  father  back.  I  have 
come  as  ever,  with  the  intent  to  do  you  good." 

"  But  you  must  not  stay,  sir !  Oh,  you  must  begone 
this  moment.    Go  quickly!    I  shall  be  undone  if  he  — 

he  —  finds  .    In  short,  I  am  waiting  to  meet  a  person 

here,  by  special  appointment." 

"  I  know,"  said  Gaines,  "but  he  will  not  come." 

"How  do  you  know?"  cried  the  distracted  girl,  "  you 
do  not  even  know  of  whom  I  speak." 

"  Think  not?    An  hour  ago,  Governor  returned 

from  the  fire  to  his  own  house ;  where  he  is  now,  doubt- 
less sleeping  off  the  fumes  of  two  gallons  of  wine." 

"  Oh,  then,  you  o  know  my  secret,  and  I  am  h ambled 
before  my  father's  clerk." 

"  Need  not  be  ;  I  have  learned  nothing  new  to-night." 
Then  he  took  a  seat  by  her  on  the  sofa,  where  she  had 
gone  into  hysterics.    He  manifested  no  alarm  at  her 


THE    NIGHT    WAT'  P 


319 


situation,  although  there  really  was  cause ;  but  waited  in 
silence  until  she  grew  calm.  Then  taking  her  hand  he  said, 
"Gertrude."  He  had  never  ventured  on  this  familiarity 
before;  and  the  lady  started,  and  essayed  to  look  haughty. 

"  JSTever  mind,  do  not  become  excited.  This  is  no  time 
for  idle  forms  and  set  speeches.  Gertrude,  I  wish  to 
speak  very  seriously  to  you.    Will  you  listen  ?" 

"  Go  on,  sir,"  said  the  beauty,  proudly. 

u  I  have  come  to  make  you  acquainted  with  certain 
facts.    Then  I  await  your  decision." 

"  Go  on,  sir." 

u  Well :  In  the  first  place,  Col.  Murray  has  not  perished 
in  the  flames,  as  is  believed." 

u  That  is  nothing  new  to  me,  sir.  I  never  believed  the 
rumor,  after  the  first  stunning  announcement.  But  go 
on,  I  say." 

"  Then  Governor  — ■          never  meant  to  fulfill  his 

engagements  here  with  any  honorable  designs.  His  pur- 
poses are  all  nefarious,  his  only  desire  being  the  gratifica- 
tion of  lust.  He  would  never  have  married  you,  Gertrude, 
even  if  this  last  bubble  had  not  burst,  and  left  3^011  here, 
as  you  must  feel  you  are,  a  mark  for  the  shafts  of 
calumny,  the  jeers  of  ridicule;  in  short,  a  thing  for  the 
1  finger  of  scorn  to  point  at.'  " 

"  Stop,  sir,  I  will  hear  no  more." 

"  You  must  hear  me  out ;  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  inter- 
rupted." He  takes  out  a  note  and  reads  very  slowly  and 
emphatically  :  — 

"  Dear  Joe  —  I  am  ordered  by  my  sister  Clara  to  invite 
you  to  meet  a  gay  party  at  the  old  homestead,  on  the  6th 
of  next  month.  She  has  at  last  got  her  own  consent  to 
marry  the  merry  little  Governor,  who  has  (like  Jacob  of 
old)  served  seven  years  for  her.  We  will  take  no  denial. 
Yours,  truly,  T.  W.  Lane." 


320 


THE     NIG  H  T     W  A  T  (J  H  . 


"  Colonel  Murray,  without  intending  it,  has,  to-night, 
placed  you  in  the  most  painful  situation." 

"  Did  you  come  here,  sir,  to  probe  my  heart,  or  to  gloat 
over  my  degradation?  to  deliver  a  lecture,  or  preach  a 
sermon?  " 

"  For  none  of  these  purposes.  I  came  to  give  you  an 
opportunity  to  save  yourself  from  further  insults  and 
mortifications,  by  giving  me  a  right  to  protect  you.  Or 
if  not  so,  then  to  aid  you  in  your  own  plans  in  getting 
out  of  the  dilemma." 

"But  how?  In  what  way  can  you  protect  me  from  those 
assaults  ?  " 

"  Only  as  your  husband,  madam." 

"  Tou  my  husband?"    almost  shrieked  the  lady. 

"  Aye  !  Your  husband  !  Better  that,  than  the  thing  I've 
been;"  and  he  fixed  those  steel-like  eyes  on  her;  while 
hers,  as  ever,  sunk  beneath  the  keen  cold  glance.  Again 
she  went  into  hysterics.  Her  companion  took  no  notice 
of  this  ;  but  after  calmly  waiting  for  a  few  moments,  took 
out  his  watch  and  said  very  dryly,  "  Madam,  I  wait  your 
decision." 

She  looked  up  and  said,  "  Josiah,  have  you  told  me  the 
whole  truth? 

"  Far  from  it,  I  assure  you.  I  have  told  you  the  truth, 
and  nothing  but  the  truth,  but  God  forbid  I  should  tell 
you  the  whole  truth." 

"Oh  !  what  must  I  do?  What  is  best?  Do  advise  me, 
my  last  and  only  true  friend."  She  took  his  hand  and 
pressed  it  to  her  lips.  All  this  he  endured  very  compo- 
sedly, without  the  least  excitement.  "  Tell  me  what  you 
propose." 

Then  he  explained  his  wishes  and  plans,  which  ended 
in  the  lady  throwing  herself  into  his  arms,  and  crying, 
"  Well,  take  me  and  do  with  me  as  you  think  best." 

"  Now  go  to  your  room,"  said  Gaines,  "  and  get  ready, 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  321 

for  in  one  hour  more  it  will  be  broad  day.  I  will  await 
you  here." 

When  Gertrude  went  to  her  room,  she  saw  with  aston- 
ishment Ann  sitting  wTith  her  traveling  dress  and  bonnet 
on.  A  large  trunk  was  out  in  the  floor,  all  packed,  with 
dressing-case,  band-boxes,  etc.  Gertrude's  traveling  at- 
tire was  also  lying  on  the  bed.  Without  saying  a  word, 
Ann  commenced  disrobing  her  mistress,  talking  as  she 
worked.  "  No  time  to  chat  now,  Miss  Gutty.  We  must 
be  off,  else  we  can't  get  off.  Come,  let  me  fix  your  hair 
up  plainer  like.    We  must  hurry  now." 

A  low  tap  at  the  door. 

"  Come." 

Mr.  Gaines  entered.  "  Come,  my  dear,"  said  he.  The 
lady  started,  but  in  an  instant  recovered  herself,  and  tried 
to  smile  her  thanks.  Poor  soul !  she  felt  like  the  drowning 
wretch,  who  seizes  the  plank  thrown  into  the  whirlpool. 

Now  they  are  ready,  and  Mr.  Gaines  places  before  her 
writing  materials. 

"  Write  to  your  father,  Miss  Lindsay,"  said  he. 

"  Oh  mercy !  For  God's  sake  do  not  ask  me  to  do  that. 
I  can  not ;  I  am  afraid." 

M  Gertrude,  it  is  due  to  yourself,  your  friends,  and  my- 
self. Besides,  it  would  be  an  unpardonable  disrespect  to 
your  father." 

"How  can  I?  How  can  I  address  my  father?  How 
can  I  tell  him  that  I  have  —  have  —  Oh  !  how  can  I  write 
to  my  father,  who  is  so  passionate?  " 

"  You  will  not  be  here  to  witness  it.  Write ;  we  lose 
time." 

"  What  must  I  say,  Josiah  ?  "  taking  the  pen  and  look- 
ing pleadingly  into  his  face.  She  repeats  the  question, 
"  Oh  tell  me,  dear  Josiah,  what  I  shall  say." 

The  young  man  turns  away,  and  smiles  with  a  peculiar 
expression  —  walks  across  the  room,  then  says,  "I  would 


322 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


not  presume  so  much.  Your  own  heart  must  be  your  Men- 
tor in  bidding  your  own  father  farewell." 

"  O  God  !  I  have  no  heart  —  ('I  fear  not,'  struck  in 
Mr.  Gaines)  — to  do  this  or  anything  else." 

"  Write,  madam !  Address  two  lines  to  your  father, 
accounting  for  your  disappearance.  In  less  than  five  min- 
utes I  shall  leave.  If  you  have  done  it  then,  and  are  ready 
to  accompany  me,  I  shall  doubtless  be  honored.  Write." 

"  My  dear  Father  "  "  Oh  !  I  can  not !  I  feel  incom- 
petent to  this  difficult  task." 

Mr.  Gaines  has  taken  his  seat  very  composedly  across 
the  room  on  a  divan,  with  his  watch  in  his  hand. 

Ann  comes  to  the  door,  and  says,  "  It  most  day,  bress 
God  !  If  you  don't  start  soon,  you  gwine  to  hab  de  sun 
to  light  you  on  your  road  to  ruin."  Gaines  smiles  sar- 
castically, and  again  admonishes  Miss  Lindsay  of  the 
flight  of  time. 

Then  with  the  look  and  manner  of  desperate  reckless- 
ness, she  dashes  off  the  following  note  : 

"  Dear  Father  —  I  have  placed  myself  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  only  man  who  never  did  deceive  me.  1 
shall  write  from  the  first  post. 

Your  poor  Daughter." 

She  handed  it  to  him  timidly,  saying,  "  I  could  think 
of  nothing  else  to  write.  Pardon  me  if  I  have  not  said 
enough  to  jnease  you." 

"  It  is  sufficient.  Now  shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
handing  you  to  your  carriage  ?  "  offering  his  arm. 

When  they  reached  the  street  it  was  still  dark,  and  after 
walking  a  few  squares,  they  came  to  a  vehicle.  Gertrude 
was  handed  into  it ;  Gaines  sprang  in  after  her,  the  maid 
following.  He  had  placed  himself  by  her  side  and  folded  his 
arms,  and  after  giving  the  signal,  spoke  iyot  another  word. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


323 


They  drove  off  at  a  furious  pace.  A  few  market  cart-men 
and  the  post-boy  riding  drowsily  along,  were  all  who  saw 
that  flying  vehicle. 

"When  the  sun  rose,  they  were  many  miles  on  their  way. 
The  blinds  were  securely  buttoned  down ;  the  inmates 
heeded  not  the  hour.  And  now  that  proud,  arrogant, 
spoiled  belle  of  a  large  aristocratic  city,  slept  quietly  on 
the  humble  bosom  of  the  second  clerk  of  a  commercial 
house  —  her  father's  book-keeper  —  a  man  younger  than 
herself.  But  she,  with  all  her  accessories,  and  her  high, 
haughty  spirit,  will  And  her  match  in  that  pale,  quiet 
young  man. 

She  rests  in  peace  now  in  his  arms,  where  we  will  leave 
her  for  the  present  to  dream ;  aye  !  to  dream. 


324 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    ELOPEMENT  DISCOVERED. 

4  *  Alas  !  what  stay  is  there  in  human  state, 
Or  who  can  shun  inevitable  fate  ? 
The  doom  was  written,  the  decree  was  past, 
Ere  the  foundations  of  the  world  were  cast !  " 

At  eleven  o'clock,  Maj.  Lindsay  sat  at  breakfast  rumin- 
ating over  the  events  of  the  past  evening.  He  adjusts  his 
spectacles  midway  between  his  eyes  and  the  point  of  his 
nose.  Then  takes  them  off,  and  wipes  them:  puts  them 
on  again  a  little  nearer.    Anon  he  wipes  them  again. 

At  length  he  exclaims,  "  D  it  all !  if  I  don't  believe 

I'm  growing  old  ;  hardly  though  —  my  lady  Murray  reads 
without  the  cursed  things.  But  whether  the  book  is  up 
side  or  down  it  is  all  the  same  to  her.  Ha!  ha  !  ha  !  "  Sips 
his  chocolate,  and  reads  the  last  journal — having  placed 
the  glasses  again  on  the  point. 

"  £  The  public  '  — ahem  !    '  The  public  notice  is  invited 

to'  the  devil !    Will  they  never  get  up  anything  new  ? 

1  Wanted,  a  young  woman  to' — go  to  h  with  such 

stuff' !     Humph  !     What  is  this  ?      '  Fire  —  everything 

lost  —  nothing  saved  but '  £  unprecedented  heroism  ! ' 

Ahem!  'plunged  into  the  flames'  Yes,  poor  fel- 
low !    You  did  indeed  plunge  right  into  damnation  ! 

I  believe  I'm  turning  woman,  or  fool,  which  is  the 
same  thing."  Wipes  his  eyes  —  "  God  only  knows,  when 
these  old  eyes  were  ever  moistened  with  grief  before. 

Poor  child  !  no  wonder  she  shuts  herself  up  Such  a 

loss  !  Such  a  loss  !  Oh  me  !  Oh  me !  "  Eises  and  rings 
the  bell. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  325 

Tom  comes  in,  who  is  only  an  assistant  groom.  "  Where 
is  Eobert?"  asked  Maj.  Lindsay. 

"  I  dunno,  mas'r,  I  can't  not  find  him." 
«  Where  is  Ann,  then?" 

"  She  aint  not  come  down  yet.  I  reckon  she  sleep  too, 
like  Miss  Gutty." 

"  Has  she  been  called  ?  " 

u  Yes,  sir ;  but  every  one  of  the  doors  of  Miss  Gutty's 
rooms  is  locked." 

"  Go  bid  Mrs.  Bluster  come  to  me  immediately."  The 
house-keeper  soon  presented  herself — full  of  importance. 

u  Mrs.  Bluster,  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  so  backward  in 
having  things  placed  to  the  right  about.  It  is  now  twelve 
o'clock,  and  the  whole  house  looks  like  a  pandemonium." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know  such  is  the  true  state  o'  the  case  ;  but 
I  have  been  waiting  orders  from  the  head  o'  the  quar- 
ters." 

"What  has  Miss  Lindsay  to  do  with  house-cleaning?" 

"  Nothing,  sir,  with  house-cleaning,  but  a  great  deal 
with  house  clearing.  Many  of  the  things,  here,  is  borrid. 
Way  out  from  the  very  outsquirts  of  the  city.  ]STobody 
knows  nothing  of  the  places,  but  the  young  lady,  Ann,  and 
Eobert.  All  three  of  them  can't  be  found.  Cook  says 
she  'sposes  they's  asleep,  after  their  rebel  last  night ;  but 
I  reckon  they's  drunk,  or  gone  off,  somewhere  or  nother, 
I  do  "  

"  Silence  !  ISTow,  Mrs.  Bluster,  I  want  you  to  do  credit 
to  your  profession,  and  to  your  name.  Ere  night  every- 
thing must  be  in  statu  quo.  Call  in  help,  if  you  need  it, 
five,  ten,  twenty  hands ;  but  let  me  on  my  return  see  a 
comfortable  house,  and  a  real  snug  tea-table,  with  some- 
thing racy  and  nice.  Miss  Lindsay,  you  see,  has  taken 
nothing  to-day.  She  must  be  compensated  for  walking 
down  stairs,  you  know."  He  takes  his  hat  and  cane,  and 
goes  out. 

"  Miss  Lindsay  taken  nothing  to-day  !    Little  he  knows 


326 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


about  it.  Poor  old  man  !  I  guess  she 's  took  fits  'fore  now. 
I  wonder  how  he'll  stand  it.  Heigh-ho  !  Well,  it  is  won- 
derful how  some  folks  do  worn  themselves  round  our 
affections,  and  quirl  their  hearts  about  ourselves.  Ah  !  it 
takes  dear  Mr.  Josiah  Gaines  to  do  sich  things  as  above 
mentioned."  She  places  her  arms  a-kimbo  and  marches 
out  of  the  room,  with  a  very  knowing  and  consequential 
air  ;  sighing,  as  she  goes,  "  Ah  !  yes,  it  does  that." 

When  Major  Lindsay  left  home,  he  went  straight  to  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Murray.  Gertrude's  words  flashed  across 
his  mind,  and  he  felt  troubled.  She  had  said,  "  Before 
one  week  is  over,  he  will  be  here."  "It  is  strange,"  said 
he,  "  but  perhaps  she  knows  more  than  any  of  us  ;  I  will 
call."  He  reached  there,  and  rang  the  bell,  but  no  one 
came :  he  rang  again.  Then  he  opened  the  door  and 
entered.  All  was  still  and  lonely.  He  walks  through  the 
deserted  and  dismal-looking  rooms  below,  then  made  his 
way  upstairs. 

Tivvy  comes  from  her  Mistress's  room,  wringing  her 
hands  and  weeping. 

"  What's  all  this  ?  Is  the  devil  to  pay  here,  too  ?  " 
"  Oh  yes  !  I  believe  so,  sir." 
"  What  do  you  mean,  girl  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  But  1  believe  the  gemman  you 
jest  mentioned  is  to  pay,  and  he  gwine  to  take  poor  old 
Mistis  for  the  debt." 

lL  Explain  yourself,  Tivvy,  else  I'll  give  you  this  cane. 
I  will." 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  don't  mean  nothing,  only  I  fear  the  devil  is 
to  pay,  and  poor  Marster  Charles  not  here  to  witness  the 
transaction."  Seeing  him  look  wildly  at  her,  she  added 
petulantly  :  "  Lor !  Major  Lindsay,  is  you  so  subtuse  as 
all  that  ?  I  mean  my  poor  old  Mistis  is  about  to  move 
her  washing  to  a  warmer  climate.  He  !  he  !  he  !  Hugh  ! 
hugh  !  hugh  !  "  And  the  negro  laughed  and  cried  at  the 
same  time. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


327 


"  Good  morning,  Doctor  Brown.    How  is  the  old  1 

mean  how  is  Mrs.  Murray?" 

"  Bad !  bad  !  sir.  Bad  state  of  things,  sir.  I  hardly 
think  she  will  survive  this  shock.  The  loss  of  her  son 
seems  more  than  she  can  live  under,"  said  Dr.  Brown, 
with  feeling. 

"  Pshaw  !  she  never  cared  for  any  body  in  her  life,  but 
herself." 

"  Well !  I  don't  know  about  that ;  but  this  stroke  is 
overwhelming.  It  has  unsettled  her  reason.  Hark ! 
Listen  to  those  maniac  shrieks.  I  am  going  after  my 
wife.    She  begs  to  see  her  before  she  dies." 

"  Does  she  think  her  case  so  desperate,  then  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so.  She  raves  incessantly  for  her  son.  Does 
not  seem  willing  to  give  credence  to  that  rumor  of  his 
death.    Good  day,  sir  ;  I  am  in  haste." 

Major  Lindsay  felt  strangely  depressed.  All  things 
seemed  to  have  lost  their  roseate  hue.  He  plodded  on 
his  way  down  street ;  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  Pre- 
sently he  quickens  his  pace  and  looks  up.    "  Well !  d  

it !  I  can't  help  it  !  Why  should  I  go  bowed  down  in  this 
way  ?  I'm  sure  I  did  all  in  my  power,  while  he  lived,  to 
please  and  honor  him.  No  use  in  grieving  myself  to 
death,  because  he  is  dead.  I'll  call  for  the  little  Gov- 
ernor, and  take  him  home  with  me,  and  we'll  make  a 
jollification  over  it,  just  to  keep  off  the  azure  demons,  as 
Gertrude  says."    So  he  knocked  up  his  friend. 

When  they  reached  home,  they  found  all  the  house  in 
order,  and  a  comfortable-looking  tea-table  set  out  in  the 
back  parlor. 

"Ah!  this  is  glorious,  Major  ;  this  looks  like  a  manjiad 
something  to  come  home  to." 

"  Oh  yes  !  If  Gertrude  is  good  for  any  thing,  it  is  this. 
She  makes  a  fellow's  home  very  attractive  in  the  even- 
ing.   Here  Eobert !   Ann  !  Jack  !  Tom  !  Dolly  !  Cook  ! 


-328 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Bluster  !  anybody  !  where  are  your  varlets  ?  the  devil 
take  the  negroes  !  They  are  more  trouble  than  they  are 
worth.  Here,  hand  these  cards  to  Miss  Lindsay,  and  tell 
her  wre  are  waiting  for  her,  as  well  as  the  tea,  in  the  back 
parlor." 

The  servant  soon  returned  with  word  that  all  the  doors 
to  Miss  Lindsay's  suit  of  rooms  were  fast,  and  that  they 
had  knocked  loud  enough  to  wake  up  the  dead,  all  for 
nothing.  Mrs.  Bluster  was  sent  up  to  have  the  door  forced. 
The  house-keeper  came  down,  whimpering  and  whining; 
she  pulled  her  nose  and  stuck  her  fingers  into  the  corners 
of  her  eyes,  to  help  her  on  to  the  melting  mood,  while  she 
thus  delivered  herself :  "All  things  remains  edzactly  as 
they  was,  but  the  swreet  bird  has  flew  away.  The  cage  is 
filled  no  more  forever.  But  here  is  writ  out  the  passage 
of  that  same  bird.  Oh  !  oh !  oh  !  "  She  hands  Gertrude's 
noite  to  Lindsay,  who  this  time  reads  without  glasses. 

"Dear  Father  —  I  have  placed  myself  under  the  pro- 
tection of"  

"Hell  and  damnation  !  "  cried  the  Major,  springing  to 
his  feet  with  the  alacrity  of  youth,  "who  is  there  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  who  never  did  deceive  ?  There, 

read  the  d  d  thing,  Governor,  and  tell  me  which  of 

the  parasitical  puppies  has  played  me  this  scurvy  trick. 
But  I  don't  care  who  it  is,  they  will  have  their  hands  full, 
and  ere  long  they'll  find  out  the  wormwood  and  the  gall, 
instead  of  the  honey  and  the  honey-comb.  Who  is  it, 
Governor?    Who  is  the  scapegrace  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  don't  you  know  your  own  confi- 
dential friend  and  private  secretary,  and  second  clerk  of 
the  house  of  Lindsay  &  Co.  ?  " 

The  father  cast  his  eyes  down,  and  mused  for  a  moment, 
then  looking  up  cheerfully,  said,  "  Well,  I'm  glad  it  is  no 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


329 


worse.  After  all,  I  reckon  Gaines  will  do  better  for  her 
than  anybody  else  3  but,  gad!  they  have  taken  me  greatly 
by  surprise." 

"  How  so  ?  Did  you  not  see  that  the  fellow  held  an  influ- 
ence over  her  superior  to  all  others,  not  excepting  your- 
self and  our  poor,  lamented  Murray  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  well,  what's  done  is  done.  Here,  ho  !  Eobert ! 
John !  Joe !  varlets  !  where  are  ye  all  ?  Here,  bring  wine  ; 
we'll  drink  to  the  continuance  of  it,  and  to  their  very 
harmonious  lives,"  laughing  sarcastically,  "  as  well  as  to 
their  rapid  onward  route." 

"  Not  so  ;  we'll  drink  to  their  speedy  return  to  their 
friends,  and  their  own  splendid  mansion.  Now,  my  dear 
Major,  you  must  write  this  very  night,  inviting  them 
back." 

"  Well,  wait  a  bit ;  wait,  Governor.  Let  us  have  time  to 
ponder." 

"No,  sir,  not  an  instant.  If  you  do  not  write  now," 
flourishing  his  hand  with  mock  heroic  air  (the  Governor 
already  felt  the  encroachments  of  the  subtle  fluid),  "  the 
last  link  shall  be  broken  which  binds  me  to  thee  !  "  He 
strikes  the  waiter  containing  the  decanters  and  glasses, 
which  are  dashed  to  the  ground  and  shivered,  the  costly 
wines  deluging  the  rich  Brussels  carpet. 

"Many  a  true  word  is  spoken  in  jest,"  said  the  Major, 
pointing  to  the  wine. 

"  Ah  !  there's  no  joke  in  that.  It  is  a  sad  truth,  besides 
a  most  unholy  use  of  a  good  thing,"  affecting  to  look 
grieved.  "  But  we  can  call  up  more  wine  ;  we  can  again 
invoke  that  spirit.  But  who  will  restore  our  Pleiad  lost  ? 
or  fill  her  place  at  the  festive  board?  Come,  write, 
bereaved  old  man,  and  make  us  your  debtor  for  exquisite 
and  untold  joys." 

So  he  writes  and  invites  his  daughter  back,  and  tenders 
his  forgiveness  for  that  to  which  in  his  secret  soul  he  did 
not  object ;  urges  them  to  return  immediately,  and  sends 
28 


330 


THE    NIGHT    WATC  H 


his  best-  respects  to  his  son-in-law ;  then  seals  and  ad- 
dresses the  letter  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Josiah  Gaines,  Esq. 
The  Governor  looks  on,  and  smiles  meaningly,  as  he  says, 
u  Already  do  honors  begin  to  cluster  around  the  head 
of  the  neophyte  great  man.  In  twelve  hours  he  is  distin- 
guished among  men  as  accepted  lover,  husband,  and 
esquire. 

Huzza!  huzza! 
Long  live  the  happy  pair ! 
None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair." 

"  Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  "  cries  the  Major,  tossing  off  another 
glass. 

The  reader  may  be  at  a  loss  to  know  why  the  Governor 
was  so  much  interested  about  the  return  of  Gertrude,  after 

his  glaring  defalcations.    My  friend,  Governor  ,  was 

a  roue  in  the  most  polite  sense  of  the  term,  equaled  only 
in  that  sort  of  profligacy  by  our  quondam  acquaintance, 
Mr.  Calderwood.  This  gentleman  is  announced  at  this 
moment.  Soon  after,  they  all  three  enter  on  the  most 
entire,  absorbing,  sense-destroying,  soul-killing  saturnalia. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


331 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE    CHAMBER    OF  DEATH. 
"Of  all 

The  fools  who  flocked  to  see  or  swell  the  show, 
Who  cared  about  the  poor  corpse  ?    The  funeral 
Made  the  attraction,  and  the  black  the  woe." 

When  Doctor  Brown  reached  home,  he  found  Minny 
with  the  heart-broken  little  Clarence  in  her  arms,  trying 
to  soothe  him.  The  poor  child  continued  to  send  forth 
heart-piercing  lamentations. 

"  Oh  !  my  mother  !  my  kind,  sweet  mother  !  Where  is 
she?    Where  is  my  beautiful  mother?" 

Mr.  Gooch  is  sitting  by,  holding  one  little  hand,  while 
the  other  arm  is  thrown  around  Minny's  neck.  The  kind 
manager  says,  "  My  son,  if  you  would  exert  yourself,  you 
might  be  able  to  succeed.  Besides,  I  think  it  will  beguile 
you  from  your  griefs."    The  child  answers, 

"  ISTo,  sir,  I  can't  ever  any  more.  The  life  and  soul  of 
action  is  gone  from  me.  I  should  disgrace  my  former 
self.  I  can't  go  there  now,  to  be  a  mere  machine,  to  move 
only  as  I  am  prompted." 

"But,  Clarens,  the  forfeiture  of  my  pledged  word  to 
the  public  will  ruin  my  present,  and  your  future  pros- 
pects.   Come,  boy ;  come,  my  son,  think  of  that." 

"Alas  !  sir,  I  have  no  future.  All  is  swallowed  up  in 
this  present  anguish.  No,  no !  Mr.  Gooch,  I  would  do 
more  for  you  than  any  other  friend  save  this  one,"  nest- 
ling still  closer,  and  hiding  his  face  in  Minny's  bosom, 
"  but  my  occupation  is  done." 


332 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  Poor  boy!  But  what  then  will  you  do?  Lie  there 
and  sob  your  life  away  ?  You  can't,  though ;  you  would 
not ;  for  in  that  you  usurp  the  place  of  the  little  fledg- 
ling in  the  cradle." 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  but  I  hope  God  will  let  me  die. 
Then  I  shall  go  to  my  mother."  This  child,  young  as  he 
is,  was  so  deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  poesy  that  he 
involuntarily  employs  the  language  to  express  his  own 
grief. 

"Aweel!  INT ow  it's  nae  use  spaking  to  the  chiel  that 
gate  !  Gang  awa',  man.  Dinna  ye  ken  that  the  very  soul 
is  gane  out  o'  the  bairn  for  action,  as  he  says  himsel'  ? 
Canna  ye  see  it?  There's  nae  heart  in  him  to  do  ony- 
thing,  for  sairness.  Puir  stricken  deer,  you  shall  rest 
here  ! "  said  she,  pressing  him  fondly  to  her  breast,  "even 
though  the  wee  bit  Myra  shall  have  to  gang  awa'  to  a 
foster  mither." 

Mr.  Gooch  looks  distressed  and  slightly  disconcerted. 
He  stoops  down  and  kisses  the  child ;  then  going  up  to 
old  Mrs.  Wise,  offers  his  hand,  which  she  refuses,  and 
turns  from  him.  He  then  shakes  hands  with  Minny,  and 
leaving  a  paper  within  hers,  says,  "  For  the  use  of  the 
bereaved  ones."  When  he  had  closed  the  door  after  him, 
Minny  opens  the  little  roll  and  finds  it  to  be  a  fifty  dollar 
bank  note.  The  good  little  creature  weeps,  and  cries  out, 
with  much  feeling, 

"  Thank  God  !  It  wasna  then  the  luve  o'  filthy  lucre 
that  made  him  worry  the  puir  bairn  sae.  See,  dear  Gabe, 
what  the  man  meant  by  them  whispered  words." 

"  Ah  yes  !  Gooch  is  a  noble  fellow;  there  is  no  doubt  of 
that.  And  Minny,  when  you  remember  that  to  the  vota- 
ries of  the  stage  there  is  no  separate  existence  from  it,  no 
individuality,  no  domestic  life,  you  can  not  blame  Gooch. 
Its  members  are  pledged,  and  devoted  to  self-abnegation. 
Many  a  poor  crushed  woman  is  compelled  to  smile,  and 
bow,  and  sing  —  aye!  and  merrily  too,  and  adorn  the 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  333 

festive  board,  and  play  off  the  gorgeous  queen,  or  dashing 
high  bred  wife  to  some  lord  or  duke,  when  her  heart  per- 
haps, has  been  that  day  buried  with  the  loving  husband  of 
her  youthful  choice.  Her  poor  bereaved  heart  swells  in  that 
lonely  bosom,  and  throbs  wildly ;  then  burns,  yea  burns 
to  go  and  lay  itself  down  by  his  side.  The  big  tears  are 
forced  back  on  that  poor,  parched  up  thing  to  revive  it, 
and  produce  a  little  life  by  which  she  shall  be  enabled  to 
go  through  with  the  roll  assigned  her  by  her  taskmaster, 
the  manager.  Still  she  smiles  and  laughs,  and  carols,  and 
maybe  dances.  The  audience  does  not  know ;  these  ladies 
and  gentlemen  only  view  the  surface,  and  by  its  smooth 
brightness  are  deceived.  If  it  be  tragedy,  some  more 
reflective  and  sympathetic  person  will  say,  '  How  feel- 
ingly she  plays  her  part !  How  naturally  she  weeps !  How 
chastened  is  her  manner  in  the  character  of  the  wife.' 
Some  one  rejoins,  'Why,  I  had  thought  her  heart  was  not 
in  the  play,  that  she  seemed  pre-occupied.  See,  now,  how 
her  features  fall,  and  howr  the  smile  fades  from  her  face, 
while  her  opposite  speaks;  and  see  that  start  as  if  aroused 
from  sleep.'  Then  comes  the  whispered  communication, 
that  that  splendid  personification  of  folly  has  that  same 
morning  lowered  into  the  earth  her  first  and  last  friend, 
the  faithful  husband  of  her  trusting  bosom.  Some  few 
commend,  'such  admirable  magnanimity,  thus  sacrificing 
private  feelings  to  the  interest  of  her  employer.5  A  few 
cry  out,  'Oh  how  heartless  !  How  can  she  appear  here  in 
all  those  fantastic  gauds,  to  play  the  fool  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  that  extortioner,  the  public?  I  know  I  can 
never  endure  her  again  in  my  sight ! ' 

"  But  wTife,  dear  wife  !  None  but  God  looks  into  that 
heart ;  none  but  He  takes  cognizance  of  its  throbbings 
and  its  promptings.  That  night,  when  she  is  released 
from  service,  even  in  those  royal  robes  she  takes  her  way 
to  that  lowly  sod,  that  new  made  grave.  The  little  stars 
look  down  on  that  mourner.    The  lonely  tree-frog,  the 


334  THE    NIGHT  WATCH, 

hooting  owl,  and  the  melancholy  howlings  of  some  poor 
watch -dog  (like  herself  chained),  mingle  their  dismal 
notes  with  the  wails  of  that  heart-broken  wife.  But,  my 
dear  wife,  there  is  an  eye  and  an  ear  open  at  all  times,  and 
they  watch  over  that  lone  one." 

"  Oh  !  my  ain  dear  husband  !  say  no  mair ;  for  the  luve 
o'  God,  say  na  mair!  I  dinna  ken  much  about  sic  things, 
but  the  little  I  ha'  read  and  heard,  gaes  to  testify  to 
the  truth  o'  the  picture!"  cried  Minny,  now  weeping 
as  if  her  own  little  loving  heart  was  going  to  break,  or 
else  exhale  itself  in  sighs  and  tears. 

"  Gabe  !  dear  Gabe  !  for  heaven's  sake  tell  me  where  ye 
learned  all  that?  I  feel  like  I  would  be  willing  to  turn  to 
a  tree-frog,  or  an  owl,  or  some  puir  dog,  that  I,  too,  might 
accord  my  sympathy  to  the  puir,  dear,  tragedy  queen." 

Dr.  Brown  could  not  refrain  from  laughing,  sad  as  he 
felt.  He  stooped  down  and  kissed  his  wife  tenderly. 
"  Heaven  bless  you,  my  dear  wife  !  I  love  you  so  much, 
and  I  am  so  grateful  to  God  for  such  a  gift,  that  I  firmly 
believe,  after  a  while,  it  will  make  me  good  and  religious 
like  yourself.  But  I  had  forgot  my  mission.  Give  the 
bairn  to  the  grandam,  wife.  You  must  come  with  me. 
One  of  w^hom  you  would  never  have  thought,  is  calling 
frantically  for  you  —  says  she  can't  die  in  peace  until  she 
has  calked  with  you." 

The  little  Clarence  had  fallen  asleep.  Minny  places 
him  gently  on  the  sofa,  and  spreads  a  light  shawl  over 
him.  Then  she  puts  on  her  bonnet,  and  taking  the  arm 
of  her  husband,  departs  without  asking  a  question.  She 
is  satisfied  to  know  that  some  one  of  God's  family  is  in 
distress;  and  glad  and  thankful  is  she,  that  he  makes  her 
his  instrument  in  ministering  to  them. 

On  arriving  at  Mrs.  Murray's,  they  find  her  more  com- 
posed, and  she  has  now,  apparently,  an  interval  of  rea- 
son—  a  lucid  ray.  She  beckons  Mrs.  Brown  to  her,  and, 
taking  her  hand,  says,  very  feebly  : 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


335 


"  Sit  down.  I  must  hasten  to  tell  you  what  I  have  to 
say,  without  loss  of  time  or  waste  of  words.  JSTow,  swear 
to  me  that  you  will  faithfully  execute  my  dying  injunc- 
tions.   Come,  swear !  " 

u  I  canna  do  it.  I  must  na  swear,  madam.  But  1 
wTill  give  ye  my  word  o'  honor,  which  is  better,  because 
not  sinful." 

"  O  Lord !  I  can't  get  anything  done  the  way  I  want 
it,"  cried  she. 

u  Dear  woman,  ga  on.  It  maunna  be  lang  that  ye  shall 
ha'  to  speak.    I  promise,  and  God  above  hears  me." 

Mrs.  Murray  looks  about  her  anxiously.  Minny  goes 
to  the  doctor,  and  whispers  something  to  him.  He 
approaches  the  bed,  raises  the  patient,  and  says, 

"  Drink  this,  it  will  give  you  strength  to  do  and  say 
what  you  wish."  He  feels  her  pulse,  then  adds :  "  I  leave 
you  in  the  hands  of  my  wife,  who  can  do  you  more  good 
than  I  can." 

11  Now,  my  dear  little  woman,  take  that  portfolio,  and 
sit  down  by  me.  I  must  write  to  my  son."  Seeing  that 
Minny  looked  greatly  surprised,  she  rejoins,  with  energy, 

"You  think  him  dead,  but  I  know  better  —  I  know 
better." 

«  Why,  have  ye  ony  tidings  o'  Col.  Murray,  madam  ?  " 

u  Do  not  interrupt  me  or  ask  me  questions,  it  throws 
me  out.  No,  I  have  had  no  information ;  but  something 
assures  me  that  that  poor,  wronged,  and  deceived  one  — 
that  good  son  and  honest  man  —  must  be  recompensed, 
even  in  this  world,  for  his  mighty  sufferings.  A  crim- 
inal ambition  for  high  things  and  places ;  a  wicked 
thirst  for  vengeance  —  for  trivial  offences  ;  and  oh  !  a 
fatal  attachment,  which  brought  me  nothing  but  sorrow, 
and  a  no  less  fatal  promise,  made  to  an  unworthy  object, 
led  me  to  barter  my  own  soul  to  the  evil  one  (who  only 
could  have  prompted  such  fearful  devices),  whereby  I 
destroyed  the  happiness,  therefore  the  usefulness  of  my 


336 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


son  —  one  of  the  most  gloriously  promising  youths  that 
ever  lived."  She  became  so  fiercely  agitated  just  at  this 
juncture,  that  Minny  was  compelled  to  administer  another 
sedative  mixture. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  suffering  woman,  "  write  as  I  shall 
dictate,  and  remember  that  the  paper  is  not  to  be  given 
till  after  my  demise.  No,  not  if  it  could  snatch  me  from 
the  jaws  of  death,  must  you  let  it  pass  from  your  hands 
before  I  have  been  dead  and  buried  three  days.  Disobey 
me  under  pains  of  being  haunted  all  your  after  life  by  a 
phantom.  As  sure  as  there  is  a  devil  in  hell,  and  he  gives 
me  the  power,  I'll  come  back  and  stand  at  the  foot  of  your 
bed  as  I  look  now,  ghastly  and  grim.  Yes,  when  darkness 
covers  the  earth  —  when  the  elements  wage  war  with  each 
other,  and  even  your  brave  soul  becomes  faint  with  con- 
sternation, /  will  then  be  there,  and  you  shall  see  it  and 
know  it." 

"  Oh !  for  Christ's  sweet  sake,  think  o'  better  things. 
Woman,  your  soul  will  pass  away,  and  ye  ha'  given  it  no 
'tendance,  provided  no  passport  to  that  far  off  country, 
and  awfu'  journey.  Here  on  my  knees  I  promise ;  but  be 
brief.  Then  let  us  provide  something  for  the  puir  sinfu' 
soul." 

"  Too  late  !  No  time  now  !  Let  me  make  what  restitu- 
tion I  can  to  those  two  poor,  wronged  children.  'Now 
write  as  I  shall  dictate." 

So  Mrs.  Brown  sat  there  patiently  waiting  on  the  dying 
woman,  as  she  slowly  and  painfully  indited  that  letter. 
When  it  was  finished,  she  closed  her  eyes  and  lay  so  still 
that  Minny  became  alarmed.  She  held  her  ear  down  to 
see  if  she  breathed ;  which  she  did,  but  so  softly  that  one 
would  think  that  nothing  save  infancy  and  innocence 
could  know  such  downy  sleep. 

Minny  folded  up  the  paper,  intending  when  the  patient 
awoke  to  get  her  signature  if  possible.  The  sick  woman 
continued  to  slumber  for  some  time  quietly.  Presently 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


%  337 


she  became  restless — breathed  with  difficulty  —  then  deep 
and  labored  sighs  are  heaved  up,  and  convulsions  ensue. 

Minny  becomes  alarmed.  During  the  time  that  the  in- 
valid had  slept,  the  dear  little  "dot"  of  a  woman  had 
arranged  everything  in  the  room  for  the  night  vigil.  It 
is  now  dark,  but  that  splendid  lamp  is  made  to  emit  a  soft 
and  mellow  light.  Those  alarming  symptoms  increase, 
and  Mrs.  Brown  feels  sure  that  immediate  dissolution  is 
at  hand.  She  therefore  scratches  the  following  note  to 
her  husband  : 

"  Dear  Gabe  ;  I  canna  just  say,  but  I  think  her  time  is 
about  come.  I  dinna  wish  to  stay  alone.  G-o  fetch  Lucy 
May  and  Jenny  to  stay  wi'  the  auld  folks  at  hame,  and 
you  come  quickly.  It  is  awfu'  dismal  here.  Solitude  at 
sic  a  time  is  nae  sa  winsome.    Make  haste,  Gabe,  dear. 

"  Minny." 

In  a  short  time  he  is  there,  and  his  looks  show  that  he 
thinks  her  words  are  prophetic. 

"  Gabe,"  said  Minny,  "  will  she  ever  wake  up  ?  " 

u  I  think  not,  dear  wife ;  not  until  the  last  trump  shall 
wake  her." 

"  Oh  !  my  husband,  it  is  too  dreadful,  too  awful  to  rush 
into  the  presence  of  a  pure  and  holy  God,  wi'  all  her  life- 
time sins  upon  her  soul !  "  And  she  weeps  vehemently. 

"  Come,  wife,  come  !  no  use  in  that.  She  does  not  go 
uncalled.  It  is  the  regular  summons,  dear  ;  and  God  can 
do  no  wrong,  you  know.  4  He  can  cause  the  wrath  of 
man  to  praise  him.'  "  And  so  they  sat  there  by  the  bed 
of  sickness,  as  once  before,  hand  in  hand ;  loving  each 
other  even  more  tenderly  than  then. 

The  hour  is  late,  and  very  solemn  ;  the  stillness  is  appal- 
ling. The  labored  breathing  of  the  patient  is  only  varied 
by  the  beating  of  their  own  hearts.  The  clock  strikes 
twelve.  The  doctor  scrutinizes  the  features  of  the  patient ; 
29 


338 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


places  his  finger  on  her  pulse.  Then  they  sit  down  again 
together  in  silence. 

The  watchers  are  startled  by  the  violent  ringing  of  the 
street  door  bell.  Soon  after  the  door  burst  open,  and  Col. 
Murray  stalks  in.  He  is  ghastly  pale,  and  his  beautiful 
locks  are  scorched,  and  his  whiskers  on  one  side  are 
burned  nearly  to  the  face.  His  eyes  are  inflamed,  his  face 
blistered  in  many  places,  and  covered  with  patches,  and 
his  hands  are  bound  up.  Minny,  uttering  an  exclamation 
of  joy,  ran  to  him,  and  actually  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck.    While  the  Doctor  exclaimed, 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  God  bless  my  life  !  Where  have  you 
been  ?  Have  you  just  come  from  the  infernal  regions,  sir  ?" 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  know;  it  is  a  strange  place."  Then  his 
eyes  falling  on  the  corpse-like  appearance  of  his  mother, 
he  drops  on  his  knees,  and  taking  her  hand,  wTept  over  it 
in  silence. 

She  roused  up,  looked  wildly  around,  and  then  her 
gaze  settled  on  the  kneeling  figure  of  her  son.  A  ghastly 
smile  o'erspread  her  face,  and  now  commenced  the  most 
painful  struggles  to  speak.  It  was  soon  discovered  that 
she  was  unable  to  do  so  ;  the  power  of  utterance  was 
gone ;  yet  it  did  not  seem  to  be  the  paralysis  of  death. 
She  beckoned  Minny  to  her,  and  made  such  violent  efforts 
as  almost  threw  her  into  spasms. 

"  Oh  !  my  Father  in  heaven  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  The 
puir  old  body  is  struck  dumb,  and  there  is  something  on 
her  mind  which  she  wants  to  say  to  her  son." 

Murray  remained  kneeling,  with  his  face  pressed  on 
her  hand. 

"  What  do  you  want,  puir  woman?  water?" 

She  shook  her  head ;  the  good  creature  continued  to 
enumerate  a  great  many  things.  At  last,  seeing  her  look 
very  earnestly  at  a  book  shelf,  she  repeated,  "  book."  In 
a  moment  the  sick  woman's  face  brightened  up,  and  she 
nodded  assent.  Then  Minny  got  a  dictionary,  and  opened 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


339 


it  at  the  alphabet,  and  she  spelled  by  pointing  to  each 
letter,  "  Tell  my  son  to  come."  And  as  he  stood  by  her, 
she  went  on,  "  Have  you  found  her  ?  " 

He  answered,  "  Oh !  no  !  My  mother,  will  you  leave 
me  with  this  secret,  which  has  bowed  me  down  for  years, 
still  unrevealed  ?  " 

The  dying  woman  nodded  to  Minny,  who  then  took 
Conrad's  place,  and  holding  the  book,  put  her  finger  on 
the  alphabet  and  said,  "  When  I  come  to  the  right  letter, 
nod  your  head.  So  she  moved  her  finger  down  the  list, 
until  the  patient,  becoming  impatient  and  nervous,  seized 
the  book,  and,  with  great  effort,  spelled,  "  Seek  her  in  the 
den  of  the  Jews.''' 

u  Oh  !  "  cried  he,  "  she  is  not  there ;  I  know  she  is  not." 

She  looked  despairingly  at  him,  and  then  slowly  and 
feebly  made  out,  61  Mordecai  Faggot,  the  Jew  Peddler." 

Murray  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  putting  on  his  hat,  was 
about  to  leave  the  room,  when  Minny,  seeing  the  expres- 
sion of  anguish  on  the  countenance  of  the  fast  sinking 
woman,  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  said,  as  she  pointed 
to  the  patient,  "  Not  yet,  my  friend.  Ye  canna  leave  her 
now.    Sit  down  by  your  own  puir  mither." 

He  takes  the  seat,  and  the  poor  creature  rewards  him 
by  a  look  of  intense  gratitude.  Minny  leaves  the  room, 
and  calls  her  husband  after  her.  Comes  back,  and  takes 
her  seat  again  by  the  bedside.  In  ten  minutes,  Dr.  Brown 
returns  with  Dr.  Mercer,  the  rector  of  St.  Paul's  church. 
The  lady  opened  her  eyes  on  hearing  his  name,  and 
looked  steadfastly  at  him,  but  very  mournfully.  But 
when  he  would  have  questioned  her  on  the  state  of  her 
feelings  in  view  of  that  great  change  which  was  about  to 
take  place,  she  gave  no  sign  of  understanding.  He  could 
make  out  no  indication  of  feeling  whatever,  only  when  he 
at  last  said,  "  There's  yet  time  !  turn  your  dying  eyes  to 
Christ!  look  upon  the  cross!  while  the  lamp  of  life  burns, 
however  feebly,  there  is  yet  hope  ;  she  shook  her  head. 


340 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


u  My  poor  friend,  repentance  may  be  a  short  work. 
Think  of  the  thief  on  the  cross  !    Have  faith." 

She,  by  an  impatient  gesture,  intimated  that  she  wished 
him  to  cease.  Then  he  bowed  himself  in  prayer,  while 
that  little  band  of  mourners  knelt  around  the  death  bed. 
When  they  arose,  they  found  she  had  fallen  into  a  deep 
sleep,  from  which  she  never  roused  up. 

About  daylight,  the  pulse  stopped,  and  that  restless, 
perturbed  heart,  which,  for  forty  years,  had  been  a  busy 
scheme  shop,  also  ceased  to  beat.  The  breath  had 
departed,  and  the  mysterious  principle,  or  spark,  had 
gone  back  to  its  source. 

All  is  over,  the  son  kisses  the  cold,  rigid,  features,  and 
leaves.  Mrs.  Brown  proposes  to  send  for  one  or  two 
neighbors  ;  but  Tivvy  informs  her  that  she  had  been 
made  to  swear  on  the  holy  Bible,  that  there  should  be  no 
curious,  prying  eyes  in  that  chamber  of  -death.  So  they 
perform  the  last  sad  offices  themselves  alone.  Every 

thing  wTas  left  to  Dr.  Brown  and  Minny.  Governor  

came  to  offer  his  condolence  and  services.  Major  Lind- 
say kept  aloof.  Poor  Murray  did  not  seem  to  know 
what  was  passing,  who  came,  or  who  went,  or  one  word 
that  was  said  to  him.  He  continued  to  pace  the  room 
slowly,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet,  entirely  absorbed. 

The  funeral  was  one  of  unusual  pomp.  A  great  con- 
course of  people  swelled  that  dismal  train.  But  mourn- 
ers, there  were  but  three — the  son,  that  faithful  maid, 
and  an  old  beggar,  with  long,  flowing,  milk-white  locks, 
little  snaky  eyes,  and  catamount  teeth.  He  was  seen  to 
shudder,  wring  his  hands,  and  sprinkle  dust  on  his  head. 

When  the  multitude  had  dispersed,  that  proud  man, 
and  that  humble  beggar,  remained.  The  son  and  the 
servant  of  the  poor  clay  beneath,  met  each  without  see- 
ing the  other,  and  sat  down  on  either  side  of  that  mound, 
and  wept.  The  one  for  sorrow  and  loneliness  ;  the  other 
for  foiled  and  disappointed  avarice. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


341 


CHAPTEE  XXXTII. 

THE  MARRIAGE. 

"  The  hour  of  marriage  ends  the  female  reign, 
And  we  give  all  we  have  to  buy  a  chain ; 
Hire  men  to  be  our  lords,  who  were  our  slaves, 
And  bribe  our  lovers  to  be  perjured  knaves." 

About  the  same  date,  the  quiet  citizens  of  the  village 
of  5  were  startled  by  the  dashing  appearance  and  furi- 
ous driving  of  a  splendid  equipage  through  its  lonely 
streets.  The  noble  dapple  greys  w^ere  driven  by  a  remark- 
ably fine-looking  negro  servant.  They  stopped  at  the 
best  hotel  in  the  place.  A  fair,  slight,  delicate-looking 
young  man  handed  a  magnificent-looking  lady  from  the 
carriage. 

They  entered  the  house,  and  to  the  landlord's  obsequi- 
ous bow,  he  said,  "  Let  us  have  two  of  your  best  rooms 
put  in  order  immediately,  sir."  When  the  host  had  left, 
he  went  up  to  the  lady,  and  said  in  a  calm,  but  respectful 
tone,  u  Madam,  do  you  feel  much  fatigued?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  tired  almost  to  death ;  but,  dear  Josiah,  why 
do  you  address  me  so  formally.  I  think  you  should  spare 
no  pains  to  please  and  soothe  me  now,  when  I  have  just 
made  such  a  sacrifice  for  you.  It  is  as  little  as  you  could 
do  to  call  me'  by  pet  names,  Mr.  Gaines."  The  young  man 
smiled  quietly. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know,  but  we  must  let  all  such  things  come 
naturally,  and  in  the  course  of  time,  by  familiarity  and 
association." 

The  lady  pouted  and  seemed  very  dissatisfied.  Mr. 


M2  THE    NIGHT     WATCH  . 

Gaines  put  on  his  hat  and  moved  toward  the  door.  She 
jumped  at  him,  and  cried  out  in  a  passionate  voice,  "  You 
shall  not  leave  me,  sir.  I  will  not  sit  here  by  myself  in 
this  dreadful  place."  He  laid  down  his  hat,  and  then 
threw  himself  into  a  large  old  rocking  chair  opposite  to  her. 

Just  at  that  juncture,  the  landlady  came  in,  announc- 
ing, with  the  same  sort  of  servility,  that  "  the  rooms  were 
ready."  He  offered  his  arm,  and  they  follow  the  hostess 
up  stairs.  There  they  find  the  two  servants,  Robert  and 
Ann,  flirting  as  usual. 

"  Girl,"  said  Gaines,  going  close  up  to  Ann,  "  I  think 
you  told  me  once  your  mistress  had  promised  that  your 
marriage  should  come  off  the  same  time  as  her  own. 
Now  get  her  ready  and  yourself ;  I  am  about  to  make 
that  promise  good.    In  fifteen  minutes  I  shall  be  here." 

In  less  time,  he  came  with  the  pastor  of  the  Presbyte- 
rian church,  and  going  up  stairs,  he  brought  the  lady 
down,  the  servants  following.  When  the  master,  and 
"like  man,"  were  married,  the  former  presents  the  par- 
son with  two  doubloons,  which  was  no  doubt  a  real  God- 
send to  the  poor  fellow,  as  his  black  cloth  began  to  look 
rather  seedy.  The  white  bridegroom  conducted  his  bride 
back  to  her  chamber,  and  the  black  one  was  ordered  to 
bring  up  the  trunks. 

The  next  morning,  the  following  letters  were  dispatched 
on  their  way  home  : 

"Dear  Father — About  ten  minutes  ago,  we  were 
united.  I  hope,  dear  sir,  you  will  approve  of  this  step; 
at  all  events,  forgive  it,  as  it  was  the  very 'best  thing  I 
could  do  at  the  time  and  under  the  circumstances.  I 
begin  to  think  that  you  did  not  understand  or  appreciate 
Mr.  Gaines  at  home.  I  know  now  that  I  never  did  ;  but 
I  feel,  convinced  that  I  soon  shall,  and  perhaps,  after 
awhile,  learn  to  love  him. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  343 

"  We  shall  sail  for  Europe  immediately  on  reaching 
New  Orleans.  I  regret  that  I  shall  have  to  take  my  ser- 
vants. You  know,  sir,  that  I  could  never  make  my  toi- 
lett  without  Ann. 

"  After  seeing  everything  in  Great  Britain  and  on 
the  Continent,  we  will  come  back  to  stay  with  you.  I 
hope  the  establishment  will  be  kept  up  as  before  I  left 
home. 

"  Send  me  a  check  for  $5,000  ;  we  shall  need  this  much 
for  the  outfit.    The  next  must  be  drawn  on  the  Bank  of 
England,  etc.    Ann  was  married  immediately  after  I  was, 
and  is  now  Mrs.  Ann  Gaines;  as  I  subscribe  myself, 
"  Your  respectful  daughter, 

" Gertrude  Gaines." 

"  Dear  Miss  Moggy  Ann  —  I  bin  intend  to  write  you 
accordin'  to  promise,  ever  sence  we  all  'loped  dat  same 
night  of  Miss  Gutty's  weddin',  what  didn't  turn  out  no 
weddin',  as  you  has  no  doubt  hearn  afore  now.  ls«  »\  I 
know,  Miss  Moggy,  dat  you  and  my  other  two  inti- 
mate friends,  Mis  Callerwood  and  Mis  Nancy  Jones,  is 
a'most  dead  to  hear  how  we  new-married  folks  stands  it, 
and  gits  along.  Lor'  bress  your  soul !  you  don't  know 
that  Mas'r  Josiah  ;  for  we  all  b'longs  to  him  now,  ever 
sence  'bout  ten  minutes  ago,  when  we  was  all  bound  up 
to  him  in  the  holy  bands  of  hymenial  matrimony,  by  a 
keeper  of  a  meeting  house,  vulgarly  called  the  pasture  of 
de  Prisperterian  church.  Miss  Gutty  seemed  mazin  put 
out  when  she  heard  he  hadn't  got  on  the  black  gownd  and 
white  bans,  and  vowed  she  wouldn't  not  be  married  by  no 
sich  a  barbararian.  But  my  master,  Mr.  Gaines,  jist  set 
hisself  down,  and  folded  up  his  arms,  and  said  : 

"'Well,  Miss  Lindsay,  it  makes  no  great  difference  to 
me.  Far  as  I  myself 's  concerned,  it  all  de  same  way.  I 
shall  enjoy  myself  jest  as  well ;  but  I  thought  it  was  due 


344 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


to  my  benefactorer,  your  father,  and  his  daughter  too,  to 
have  dis  bisines  'tended  to  wid  no  loss  of  any  time.'  j 

"  Den  she  stomp  her  little  foot,  and  wring  her  small 
aristocraticous  hands,  and  cry,  and  cry,  but  it  all  de  same 
to  him.  Lor',  Miss  Moggy,  you'd  think  dat  man  had  been 
married  all  de  days  of  his  life  time,  he  look  so  lonesome 
and  pitisome  like.  I  tell  you  all,  dis  man's  gwine  to  turn 
out  somethm'  great.  Because  why?  Well,  he  is  de  first 
man,  woman,  and  child  what  ever  did  git  de  upper  hand 
of  Miss  Gutty  Gaines,  and  he's  gwine  to  keep  it  too. 
He'll  make  her  stand  the  right  about  wTheel ;  that's  the 
way  to  tell  it. 

"  But  still,  dear  friends,  I  don't  know  whether  dat  and 
all  her  great  money  estate  will  suffice  to  make  de  poor  fel- 
low happy.  '  Oh,  he  do  look  so  gloomy,  and  grand-like,'  as 
Will  Hatspeare  says.  '  He  seldom  and  never  do  smile,  and 
when  he  do  it,  of  sich  a  short  kind,  as  if  he  knocked 
hisself,  and  scorned  his  sperrit,  that  could  be  moved  to 
smile  at  nothing  at  all.' 

"  But  to  de  pint  of  de  subject.  Presently  she  come  off 
all  dat.  When  he  git  up  and  put  on  his  hat,  and  at  de 
same  time  one  of  dem  perculiar  short  kind  of  smiles,  and 
bow  and  say,  '  Good  evening,  Miss  Lindsay.'  She  jump 
at  him,  same  as  any  cat  would  at  a  rat ;  and  while  she 
bite  her  lips  with  madness,  she  say,  'My  grashus,  Josiah, 
I'm  jis  a  joking,  I'm  ready  to  do  anything  on  de  face  of  de 
yarth  that  you  wants  me  to.'  He  never  answer  a  word; 
but  having  'splained  to  me  before  all  about  it,  he  gave 
me  de  sign  to  follow  on.  And  after  dey  was  bound  up, 
den  de  man  of  God  bound  me  and  Kobert  up,  so  we  jis  in 
dat  pedicament  at  dis  present  junction.  I  hope  we'll  all 
be  made  able  by  de  grace  of  Divine  aid,  to  perform  our 
parts  well,  and  faithful  to  the  end;  and  above  all,  dat  our 
performance  may  prove  satisfaction  to  every  one  of  us,  is 
de  prayer  of  your  friend,  Ann  Gaines." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


CHAPTEE  XXXIV. 

THE     HAPPY     H O  M  E  . 

"  His  clean  hearth  stone,  his  thrifty  wife's  smile, 
The  lisping  infant  prattling  on  his  knee, 
Does  a'  his  weary  kiangh  and  care  beguile, 

And  makes  him  qnite  forget  his  trouble  and  his  toils." 

When  Murray  left  the  grave  of  his  mother,  and  turned 
his  steps  slowly  toward  his  solitary  home,  he  found  his 
friends  waiting  for  him  there.  Minny  left  her  husband, 
and  meeting  him  placed  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  looking 
up  kindly  into  his  face,  said,  "  Come  wi'  us,  my  friend, 
we  hae  the  best  claim  to  ye  to-night.  Ye  must  not  go  in 
there  to  greet  and  glower  all  by  your  ain  sel'.  Come  wi' 
us,  and  we'll  try  to  do  ye  good." 

"My  dear  madam,"  said  he,  pressing  her  hand,  "I 
should  make  but  a  sorry  and  somber  companion,  this 
evening.    I  should  only  mar  your  happy  home." 

u  Ah  !  Never  fash  !  What  was  friendship  made  for,  or 
what  are  friends  gude  for,  if  it's  only  in  moments  o'  joy, 
and  hours  o'  gladness,  that  we  are  to  be  found  ?  Come 
wi'  us  ;  ye  shall  be  situated  just  as  ye  see  fit ;  either  to 
mak'  aneamang  us,  or  to  go  to  yourself.  And  then  we  are 
no'  sae  cheery  there,  now,  as  we  hae  been.  Sic  trouble's 
as  these  must  reach  every  heart."  So  he  suffered  himself 
to  be  led  along. 

On  entering  the  parlor,  Murray  thought  he  had  never 
seen  so  complete  a  portraiture  of  domestic  comfort  and 
happiness.  You  will  remember  the  month  is  May,  and  in 
this  genial  clime,  now,  all  rude  winter  winds  have  been 
chased  back  to  their  northern  homes,  by  the  balmy  breath 


346 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


of  spring.  The  atmosphere  in  that  large  pleasant  room 
is  redolent  with  sweets  exhaled  from  beautifully  arranged 
vases  of  fresh  flowers.  A  sabbath-like  serenity  pervades 
the  place.  The  lights  are  thrown  out  from  rose-colored 
glass  globes,  shedding  through  the  room  a  soft,  roseate 
sunset  hue.  Plain  but  neat  sofas,  divans,  and  ottomans, 
footstools,  etc.,  are  gracefully  disposed  about,  over  the 
rich  Turkey  carpet.  A  table  stands  —  not  ostentatiously 
in  the  center — on  which  are  found  some  of  the  choicest 
gems  of  literature.  Conspicuous  amid  the  display  of 
precious  things  is  a  large  family  Bible,  elegantly  bound; 
flanked  on  the  one  side  by  "  The  Whole  Duty  of  Man,"  and 
on  the  other  by  "  Woman  as  she  should  be."  Then  there 
were  Scott,  and  Milton,  and  Shakspeare,  and  Eurns ;  in 
short,  quite  a  medley  of  authors,  but  only  the  best  wTorks 
of  each. 

Old  Mrs.  Wise  sat  at  the  head  of  a  sofa,  on  which  slept 
the  little  Clarence.  Further  on,  was  Minny's  aged  grand- 
mother. The  other  members  of  the  family  are  also  there. 
They  are  assembled,  as  was  the  custom,  twice  every  day ; 
for  it  was  in  that  room,  the  best  she  had,  that  Minny 
tried  to  honor  God  by  setting  up  the  family  altar. 

When  Murray  had  taken  a  cursory  survey  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  Minny  detected  the  look  of  satisfaction  on  his 
face,  she  advanced  to  him,  and  taking  his  hand  said, 
"Now  suffer  me  to  present  ye  to /the  auld  folks.  They 
like  sic  little  attentions  which  help  to  eke  out  their  enjoy- 
ments, and  God  knows  old  age  has  but  few  left." 

"  Get  up,  my  bonny  bairn.  Here  is  a  friend  come  to  see 
you,"  said  she,  taking  up  the  little  Clarence  from  the  sofa. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  see  anybody.  Dear  aunt  Minny, 
let  me  hide  away  here  till  God  takes  me  home  to  my 
mother." 

Murray  had  taken  his  seat  near  him,  and  when  he  pro- 
nounced those  two  words  —  "  My  son," — in  his  peculiarly 
full,  rich,  voice  —  now  modulated  to  a  mournful  sweet- 


T  HE     N 1 G  H  T    W ATOH. 


347 


ness —  the  child  sprang  up,  as  if  electrified,  rushed  into 
his  arms,  threw  his  own  around  his  neck,  and  bursting 
into  tears,  cried  out : 

"  O  that  you   would  let  me  be  your  son  !     Then  I  * 
would  not  weary  heaven  with  prayers  for  death  !  "  There 
was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  room  —  even  the  hard,  bleared 
eyes  of  eighty  winters  overflowed. 

"  Aweel !  aweel !  That  bairn  surely  keeps  the  key  to 
the  fountain  of  tears.  He  never  speaks  but  he  unlocks 
it,"  said  Minny. 

Now  a  little  silvery-sounding  bell  tinkles,  and  "  mine 
little  hostess  "  announces  tea.  When  they  surround  the 
tea-table,  which,  with  all  its  appointments,  is  in  strict 
keeping  with  that  pleasant  parlor,  and  the  genius  of  the 
place  —  the  little  mistress  —  Dr.  Brown,  in  a  calm,  manly 
voice,  pronounces  the  thanksgiving.  Their  usual  cheer- 
ful contentedness  was  much  chastened;  and  that  glad, 
heart-felt  happiness,  which  was  the  characteristic  of  that 
evening  meal,  was,  for  the  time,  o'ercast.  Yet  were  they 
patient  and  submissive  under  it  —  waiting  G-od*s  own 
time  to  make  all  bright  again. 

The  child  seemed  like  one  resurrected.  He  looked  up 
into  Murray's  face  wistfully,  hung  upon  every  word  which 
fell  from  his  lips,  and  hoarded  them  up  in  the  treasure- 
box  of  his  little  memory,  as  pearls  and  diamonds.  He 
even  smiled,  which  he  had  not  done  since  the  loss  of  his 
mother.  The  beautiful  boy  would  lay  his  head  on  the 
arm,  and  gaze  up  into  the  face  of  his  new  friend,  with 
those  deep,  dark,  Marianna  eyes.  When  Murray  would 
-meet  that  earnest,  mournful  look,  his  own  would  fill  with 
tears. 

Oh  !  it  was  a  touching  sight !  one  which  the  inhabitants 
of  heaven  might  behold  with  mingled  feelings  of  joy  and 
sympathy.  That  tender,  trusting,  but  melancholy  child, 
by  some  mysterious  influence,  impulse,  or  instinct,  cling- 
ing to  that  strong  man,  who  is  so  sublimely  handsome  in 


348 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


sorrow ;  so  grandly  beautiful  in  goodness ;  so  touchingly 
considerate  in  kindness  ! 

See  with  what  patient  gentleness  he  tends  the  "  ivy 
branch  "  by  his  side ;  with  what  deference  he  listens  to 
the  silly  garrulity  of  old  Mrs.  Dun  ;  what  steadfast  atten- 
tion he  gives  to  Mrs.  Wise,  whenever  she  opens  her 
mouth  to  utter  one  of  her  blunt,  but  sensible  truisms;  and 
above  all,  see  with  what  rapt  admiration  he  catches  every 
syllable  which  falls  from  the  lips  of  the  good  creature  at 
the  head  of  the  table.  And  so  it  is,  every  one,  even  to 
little  Jenny  Brown,  is  charmed  with  the  great  man,  as 
she  calls  him.  Still  his  heart  was  in  none  of  these  things  ; 
his  thoughts  w^ere  with  the  dead  and  the  absent ! 

"  Col.  Murray,"  said  Minny,  "  we  gae  back  every  night 
to  the  parlor,  to  make  our  family  devotions,  sae  that  the 
auld  folks  may  retire  if  they  see  fit.  I  wad  na  like  to 
mak  an  innovation  on  ony  account,  but  I  will  show  ye 
to  your  ain  room  at  once,  unless  ye  wad  like  to  kneel  wi' 
us  around  the  1  family  altar.'  We  want  ye  to  do  just  as 
ye  like  while  ye  are  wi'  us.  Imagine,  if  ye  can,  that  ye 
are  in  your  ain  house." 

The  child  pulled  him  into  the  room  ere  he  could  reply, 
and  presently  he  found  himself  seated  between  the  little 
Clarence  and  his  grandmother.  Dr.  Brown  read  a  chap- 
ter in  Psalms,  after  which  a  hymn  —  the  beautiful  lines 
commencing  with  u  When  through  the  deep  waters  He 
cause  you  to  pass,"  etc.  Then  there  broke  on  his  aston- 
ished ear  the  full,  swelling  tones  of  an  organ  in  a  fine 
prelude.  He  looked  up,  and  saw  the  interesting  but  pen- 
sive face  of  Lucy  May  bending  over  the  instrument.  To 
this  succeeded  that  touching  harmony,  that  choir  of  plain- 
tive voices  sending  up  pure  incense  to  God.  Murray 
almost  imagined  that  he  could  see  the  graceful  wreaths  as 
they  ascended  to  the  great  white  throne.  "Surely," 
exclaimed  he,  "  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Minny 's  voice  was  one  of  great  sweetness  —  clear,  full, 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


349 


and  gushing,  and  generally  glad,  like  a  thrush  on  first  find- 
ing himself  in  summer  bowers  after  the  horrors  of  a  long 
winter.  Clarence  possessed  wonderful  vocal  powers,  which 
was  one  great  cause  of  his  popularity  on  the  stage. 

Now  the  hymn  is  ended,  the  prayer  is  over  —  they  rise 
from  their  knees,  and  the  adieus  for  the  night  have 
passed.  When  they  were  left  alone  —  Minny,  Dr.  Brown, 
and  Murray  —  the  latter  said,  with  emotion,  "  My  friends, 
I  thank  you  for  this  evening,  which  has  done  me  good ;  it 
has  taught  me  a  very  important  lesson.  While  sitting 
there  listening  to  your  heartfelt  devotion,  feeling  all  the 
time  like  an  interloper  who  had  no  lot  nor  part  in  such 
holy  things,  the  conviction  wTas  forced  on  me  that  there  is 
no  happiness  save  in  the  discharge  of  duty  —  no  safety 
but  in  the  friendship  of  Christ,  no  security  but  in  the 
protection  of  God." 

"  That's  all,  sir  !  Seek  first  the  kingdom,  then  all  things 
shall  be  added  unto  you.  And,  dear  friend,  it's  na  sae 
hard  to  find  either.  If  you  really  do  wish  to  seek  it,  God 
will  furnish  a  lamp  to  your  way,  and  a  guide  to  your 
feet." 

"But  Mrs.  Brown,  the  doctors,  and  theologic  writers 
do  not  make  it  so  easy." 

"  Ah  !  never  think  o'  them  now.  I  can  tell  you  o'  an  eas- 
ier way  to  gang.  Come  at  once  to  the  blessed  Jesus  ;  do  not 
suffer  yourself  to  think  him  so  far  off.  Do  not  stand  aloof 
and  cry  '  O  that  I  could  find  him  ! '  or  '  Who  will  ascend 
up  into  heaven  to  bring  Christ  down  ! '  He  is  here  now 
in  this  room  with  pitying  ears,  anxious  to  help  us.  So 
will  he  go  with  ye,  to  your  ain  chamber ;  still  waiting  to 
catch  the  first  words  from  the  humble,  penitent  heart. 
1  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! '  This  is  enough,  if  the 
heart  is  right." 

Murray  shakes  his  head,  and  adds,  u  Ah  !  But  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  get  the  heart  right." 


350 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  Ye  canna  do  it  yourself.  Ye  maun  invoke  the  Holy- 
Spirit  to  help  ye  do  even  your  ain  part.  If  ye  have 
wronged  ony  one,  make  restitution  ;  £  Cease  to  do  evil,  and 
learn  to  do  well ; '  then  keep  the  commandments,  tak'  up 
the  cross  and  follow  him." 

Dr.  Brown  is  called  out,  and  they  are  left  alone.  He 
then  inquires  of  Minny  about  the  events  that  had  trans- 
pired during  his  absence.  The  elopement  of  the  woman 
who  wTas  so  near  being  his  wife,  excites  neither  vexation 
nor  surprise.  But  when  Minny  tells  him  that  the  general 
verdict  is  that  he  perished  in  the  flames,  he  volunteers  to 
tell  the  good  creature  the  story. 

After  making  her  acquainted  with  such  facts  as  the 
reader  already  knows,  up  to  his  rushing  into  the  lire,  he 
begins  :  "  When  I  had  entered  the  house,  I  could  not  see 
a  yard  before  me  ;  all  was  smoke,  and  flame,  and  falling 
cinders.  I  forced  my  way  into  the  rooms  on  the  right, 
but  finding  no  one  there,  I  essayed  to  do  the  same  on  the 
left.  All  now  was  one  mass  of  flame.  Well  knowing 
that  no  creature  could  live  in  that  fierce  element,  I  sped 
on  to  another  apartment  which  in  sheer  desperation  I 
would  have  entered,  and  of  course  perished  ;  but  some 
one  jerked  me  up  as  though  I  had  been  no  heavier  than 
the  little  Clarence  there,  and  carried  me  from  the  place. 
Not  a  second  after,  the  roof  fell  in,  amid  the  yells  and 
shrieks  of  the  populace.  My  hat  had  been  stricken  off, 
and  the  pain  I  suffered  from  burnt  eyes  and  skin  for 
awhile,  was  so  intense  that  I  lost  all  thought  of  what  was 
passing.    In  fact,  I  think  I  must  have  swooned. 

"  When  I  revived,  I  found  myself  in  a  small,  neat  room, 
lying  on  a  bed.  whose  appointments  made  me  think  of  a 
snow-bank.  Murdoch  sat  by  me,  applying  some  soothing 
applications  to  my  wTounds,  and  a  tall,  graceful  girl  passed 
about  the  room,  engaged  in  making  other  preparations. 
The  room  was  cool  and  fragrant.    But,  strange  to  tell, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


351 


there  was  not  a  window  in  it.  A  mellow  light  issued  from 
a  perfumed  lamp,  and  I  heard  at  no  great  distance  the 
music  of  the  feathered  songsters.  I  imagined  myself  to 
-be  in  some  grotto,  and  but  for  the  matter  of  fact  Night 
Watch  sitting  there,  I  should  have  taken  it  for  a  fairy 
place,  and  that  slight  girl  for  the  divinity.  My  face  was 
covered  with  plasters,  my  hands  salved  over  and  bound 
up,  my  feet  poulticed.  I  looked  at  Murdoch,  who  seemed 
to  have  escaped  almost  unscathed. 

u  I  remembered  being  borne  from  the  burning  house, 
and  seeing  that  a  small  portion  of  those  black  locks  were 
missing,  and  his  luxuriant  whiskers  slightly  scorched,  I 
immediately  ascribed  my  salvation  to  his  timely  aid.  I 
asked  him  for  water,  and  found  that  I  could  scarcely 
speak,  my  mouth  and  throat  were  both  so  much  inflamed. 
The  girl  advanced  and  gave  me  a  cooling  draught,  which 
was  instantaneous  in  its  soothing  influence. 

"  Then  I  closed  my  eyes,  and  perhaps  slept ;  I  know 
not,  but  whatever  state  it  was,  I  found  it  entrancing.  A 
delicious  repose  stole  over  my  senses.  I  felt  unequal  to 
the  least  exertion,  either  mental  or  physical.  I  lay  there 
with  my  eyes  slightly  open,  if  I  did  not  dream ;  and 
thought  I  saw  the  same  graceful  figure  flitting  before  me, 
appearing  to  my  excited  fancy  marvelously  beautiful. 
She  applied  other  bandages  and  plasters  to  my  hands, 
after  having  laved  them  in  a  cooling  lotion.  Then  stole 
over  my  senses  the  most  mellifluous  sounds ;  soft  and 
faint  at  first,  as  if  at  a  distance  ;  then  swelling  gradually, 
until  they  reached  a  louder  strain.  A  voice  that  surely 
could  not  have  been  earthly,  sang  the  following  lines, 
which  were  so  thrilling  in  their  pathos  and  peculiar  appli- 
cability, that  I  knew  they  wxere  improvised.  I  held  my 
breath  lest  I  should  interrupt  the  sound  which  I  soon  got 
to  think  was  the  music  of  the  spheres.  O  that  I  could 
have  listened  forever. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

Sleep,  sleep,  poor,  weary,  broken  man ! 
Nor  let  thy  mind  stray  hence  again ; 
Thou  hast  done  all,  performed  thy  duty; 
None  could  do  more  in  cause  of  beauty. 

See  how  thy  hands  are  scorch'd  and  mangled, 
Thy  face  so  blur'd,  thy  locks  so  tangled, 
Thy  very  limbs  are  stiff  and  sore  ; 
Then  take  thy  rest,  and  toss  no  more. 

Come,  yield  thee  now  to  dreams  of  gladness ; 
Hope  points  the  way,  then  cast  off  sadness  — 
She  whom  thou  lov'st  may  yet  be  thine ; 
Think,  think  of  this,  Oh,  bliss  divine. 

And  then  the  strain  died  away,  and  with  it  passed  all 
memory  of  pain,  sin,  and  sorrow.  I  seemed  to  have  been 
transported  to  elysian  fields  and  fairy  bowers,  where 
nothing  ruder  than  the  soft  sighing  of  the  breeze  through 
the  myrtle  and  acacia  groves  could  reach  me.  I  felt  my 
face  fanned  by  the  zephyr's  wing,  as  nectar  exhaled  from 
the  overhanging  boughs  of  the  fragrant  jessamine. 

"  I  know  not  how  long  I  remained  in  this  state,  but 
when  I  roused  up  the  vision  did  not  pass  away.  I  beheld 
there  by  my  side,  the  most  miraculously  beautiful  woman 
I  had  ever  seen,  save  one,"  and  his  head  dropped  on  his 
breast.  When  he  raised  it,  a  tear  glistened  on  the  lid. 
"  Her  eyes  wxere  large  and  lustrous,  and  dark  as  night, 
yet  full  of  light  and  love.  They  shone  on  me  with  a  mild 
compassion.  She  was  not  so  fair  as  my  lost  Marianna, 
being  what  in  these  climes  we  call  a  brilliant  brunette. 
Her  features  were  finely  molded  and  very  expressive. 
Her  mouth  —  O  it  is  folly  for  me  to  attempt  desertion. 
Just  fancy,  as  I  did,  that  an  angel  sat  there  fanning  me 
with  her  wings.  I  lay  and  gazed  at  her,  as  she  produced 
that  gentle  undulation  of  the  balmy  atmosphere  with  one 
of  those  large  oriental  fans,  which  it  would  take  a  clerk's 
salary  to  purchase. 


352 


T  H  E    N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  0  H  . 


353 


"  Seeing  me  look  so  steadfastly  at  her,  she  leaned  over 
and  asked  me  if  I  wanted  anything.  Oh  !  how  soothing 
was  that  sweet  voice  to  my  lonely  heart!  I  was  still 
inclined  to  be  feverish,  and  the  only  trouble  of  which  I 
was  conscious,  was  an  unappeasable  thirst.  I  asked  her 
again  for  water.  She  gave  me  ice-lemonade ;  then  felt 
my  pulse,  and  applied  wet  napkins  to  my  head  and  breast. 
She  placed  that  little  soft  hand  on  my  heart,  and  seemed 
to  count  its  beatings.  I  know  not  that  its  pulse  was 
quickened  under  the  pressure  of  that  hand  on  the  bare 
surface;  but  I  know  it  made  me  think  of  her —  of  my  own 
beautiful  one.  I  then  caught  that  hand  between  both  of 
mine,  and  entreated  her,  if  she  had  any  pity  in  her  soul, 
to  tell  me  where  I  could  find  her?  if  she  still  lived?  or 
whether  she  had  perished  in  the  flames  ere  I  could  reach 
her? 

"  She  stooped  down  and  kissed  my  forehead  as  she  said, 
'  My  friend,  I  can  not  tell  thee  much,  now.  She  was 
saved,  and  lives  ;  I  may  not  say  where  —  I  have  it  not  at 
my  option  to  do  so  yet ;  but  let  this  suffice.  I  have  made 
a  vow  to  suspend  my  own  happiness  until  she  is  restored 
to  thee.  She  shall  be.  Slight  and  fragile  as  thou  mayst 
think  me,  know  that  I  wield  a  mighty  power;  and  aided 
by  my  coadjutor  in  works  of  mercy,  I  am  sometimes 
invincible.  Aye!  thou  smilest,  but  no  matter.  Did  I 
choose  to  put  forth  my  strength  and  use  my  influence, 
assisted  by  that  most  effective  and  powerful  of  all  engines, 
the  immens.e  wealth  of  my  people,  I  could  shake  this  city 
to  its  foundation.  But,'  said  she  (falling  from  that  pitch 
of  enthusiasm  to  which  she  seemed  unguardedly  to  have 
risen),  in  a  subdued  voice,  1  my  friend,  the  human  heart 
is  a  most  complex  thing  —  a  most  intricate  machine  — 
and  must  be  coaxed,  and  oiled,  and  induced,  but  not  made 
to  do.  Be  patient,  and  I  call  father  Jacob  and  all  the 
Patriarchs  to  witness  my  vow,  that,  if  life  lasts  me,  I  will 
unravel  this  mvstery —  at  all  events,  I  will  restore  to  you 
30 


354 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


that  unfortunate  lady.  My  own  happiness,  as  I  have 
said  —  that  for  which  I  have  waited  since  my  childhood  — 
is  kept  in  abeyance  until  your  cup  is  full.  I  have 
sworn  it.' 

"  In  my  madness,  and  drunk  with  revived  hopes,  as  well 
as  the  overwhelming  admiration  for  the  heavenly  crea- 
ture by  my  side,  I  started  up  in  bed  and  caught  her  to 
my  breast  —  imprinting  kiss  after  kiss  on  her  unresisting 
lips.  Then  becoming  exhausted  with  effort  and  excite- 
ment, I  fell  back  on  my  pillow,  panting  and  almost  faint- 
ing. When  I  opened  my  eyes,  she  was  gone.  I  knew 
not  how  to  address  her,  else  would  I  have  given  my 
remaining  strength  to  the  winds  in  calling  on  her  name. 

"  My  thirst  now  became  consuming,  and  I  roared  in 
agony  for  drink.  In  tossing  about  I  chanced  to  look  at 
the  little  table.  I  found  there  iced  wines  and  lemonades, 
as  well  as  cold  water.  I  drank,  and  then  the  same  rich 
and  mellow  strain  of  music  lulled  me  to  rest. 

"When  I  awoke  from  that  natural  sleep,  I  was  refreshed, 
and  would  have  risen  and  dressed  myself,  but  my  feet 
were  still  poulticed,  and  when  I  sat  up,  I  found  my  head 
grew  dizzy.  Presently  a  sound  like  a  sliding  panel, 
startled  me ;  a  place  opened  in  what  had  appeared  to  me 
to  be  a  solid  wall.  Murdoch  and  my  enchantress  came  in 
together.  She  was  now  dressed  most  sweetly,  in  a  splen- 
didly wrought  India  muslin  robe ;  her  arms  and  neck 
were  bare,  and  beautifully  plump  and  round,  as  those  of 
infancy.  She  wore  a  necklace,  bracelets,  and  girdle,  all  of 
the  finest  diamonds.  Her  black  hair  fell  in  graceful 
ringlets  to  her  waist.  She  was  leaning  on  Murdoch's 
arm,  and  looking  up  into  his  face,  in  a  loving,  confiding 
manner.  When  they  approached  me  I  felt  my  face  flush, 
and  I  thought  I  saw  an  answering  suffusion  on  hers. 

"  Murdoch,  who  is  the  best  man  in  the  world,  aided  by 
the  lady,  opened  my  wounds,  some  of  which  he  said  were 
quite  healed.    Then  applying  some  lubricating  liniment 


T  H  E    N  IGHT  WATCH. 


355 


to  others,  bound  them  up  again.  On  being  asked  how  I 
felt,  I  answered,  '  Like  a  new  creature,  and  quite  able  to 
get  up.'  He  replied,  'Yes,  after  a  bit;  now  take  some- 
thing to  eat.'  A  large  waiter  containing  delicate  and 
nutricious  viands,  but  nothing  prepared  as  I  had  ever  seen 
it  before,  was  placed  on  the  table. 

u  When  I  had  eaten,  I  asked  Murdoch  of  the  time.  He 
said,  c  It  is  just  dark.'  i  Dark,'  cried  I,  'it  must  be  near 
day;  it  seems  longer  than  that  since  we  came  in.'  'Yes/ 
replied  he,  smiling  dryly,  <  it  is  now  more  than  three 
days.'  1  Three  days,'  exclaimed  I ;  '  it  is  but  one  night ; 
one  short  and  beautiful  night.'  I  looked  at  the  lady.  She 
came  to  me,  took  my  hand.  1  Now,  my  friend,  I  hope  thou 
art  refreshed,  since  thou  hast  slept'    1  Yes;  but  my  bright, 

my  beautiful,  my  charming  one,  you  must  tell  me'  

I  was  startled  by  a  dark,  lowering  cloud,  which  over- 
spread the  usually  ingenuous  and  handsome  face  of  the 
Night  Watch.  I  was  appalled;  and  looking  inquiringly 
at  the  girl,  I  stopped  speaking.  She  smiled  sadly,  and 
said,  'Alas  !  this  is  one  of  the  evils  of  my  life  !  I  am  kept 
busy  to  suppress  the  "  Green-eyed  Monster,"  in  more 
instances  than  one.    But  go  on,  sir.' 

u  4  Murdoch,  my  good  friend,"  said  I,  'come  sit  down  by 
me.'  I  placed  her  little  hand  in  his.  4  Now  tell  me  who 
is  this  kind  angel  who  with  yourself  is  laying  me  under 
such  mighty  obligations  ?  Tell  me  your  name,  sweet 
lady?'  '  Thou  wilt  know  it  soon;  the  time  has  not  yet 
come,'  said  she.  1  Well,  then,  tell  me,  both  of  you,  why 
this  kindly  interest  for  a  stranger?  why  have  you  lavished 
this  tender  care  on  me?'  '  Partly  from  early  education, 
which  taught  me  to  feel  it  a  duty  incumbent  on  me  to 
relieve  suffering  wherever  I  meet  it,  more  especially  of  the 
stranger  within  our  gates ;  partly  with  the  hope  of 
making  some  restitution  to  thee  for  wrongs  done  by  one, 
who  though  despised  and  contemned  by  your  race,  and  in 
some  measure  justly  so,  is  still  dear  to  me ;  but  above  all, 


356  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

for  the  interest  I  feel  in  that  good,  pure,  gentle,  and 
beautiful  lady;  and  last,  and  most  of  all,  would  I  save 
those  grey  hairs  another  crime!'  cLady,  you  speak  in 
enigmas  ;  will  you  not  explain  ?  '  <  I  can  not,  yet.  Ask 
me  no  further.  We  are  doing  all  we  can  for  thee.  Mur- 
doch, do  thine  errand.'    And -she  vanished. 

"  He  then  informed  me  of  the  illness  of  my  mother, 
telling  me  he  had  just  learned  from  the  doctor  that  she 
would  not  live  through  the  night.  I  immediately  rose, 
and  with  his  assistance  dressed  myself  When  he  saw 
that  I  was  ready  to  leave  he  came  up  to  me  and  said  with 
some  confusion,  <  Col.  Murray,  you  are  in  the  Jews'  Quarter. 
And  you  know  they  have  been  in  this  place,  as  everywhere, 
a  reviled  and  abused  people  ;  though  not  hunted  like  wild 
beasts,  as  they  are  in  some  countries,  for  acts  which,  in  the 
Christian,  passes  for  peccadilloes,  but  in  the  Jew  become 
crime.  A  body  of  these  have  formed  themselves  into  a  con- 
federacy, and  have  built  up  for  their  present  sojourn,  this 
street.  The  better  for  security,  they  keep  up  this  mys- 
tery and  gloomy  secrecy.  No  Christian  has  ever  left  these 
walls  exactly  as  he  came.  Your  being  here  is  unknown 
to  all  save  the  girl  and  myself  It  is  usual  (if  permitted 
to  leave  the  place  at  all)  to  go  forth  either  blindfolded,  or 
led  out  during  the  night  when  darkness  covers  the  earth. 
It  is  different  with  you.  Your  simple  word,  that  you  will 
observe  nothing;  or  if  you  do,  that  you  will  not  use  it  for 
the  detriment  of  the  inhabitants,  is  sufficient.  I  leave  it 
to  your  own  honor.    I  will  not  even  ask  a  promise.' 

•  "  <Ah!  think  you,'  I  cried,  'I  could  sacrifice  those  who 
have  saved  and  nursed  me,  to  an  abstract  principle  of 
good  ?  I  hope  your  heart  does  not  harbor  a  doubt  of  me?1 
He  added  quickly,  '  Sa}^  no  more ;  I  do  not  suspect/ 
And  so  we  left  by  some  curious,  winding,  stairway. 
After  we  reached  the  street,  which  seemed  to  be  at  least 
a  mile  from  the  top,  without  any  other  incident,  I  got 
home  at  midnight,  as  you  know." 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH 


357 


"JSTow,  my  friend,  you  must  advise  me  as  to  the  best 
course.  My  mother  told  me  that  I  should  seek  her  of 
*  Old  Faggot  the  Jew.'  The  girl  pledged  herself  to 
restore  her  to  me.  .Had  I  better  wait  for  the  fulfillment 
of  that  pledge,  or  tempt  the  cupidity  of  the  old  extor- 
tioner, by  offering  a  ransom  ?  " 

Dr.  Brown  approved  of  the  last  plan,  but  Minny 
opposed  it.  She  thought  Murdoch  and  the  girl  would 
bring  all  things  to  light,  if  left  alone.  Moreover,  she 
feared  Myra  would  be  hurt,  if  they  gave  the  affair  any 
publicity. 

"  There  is,  sir,  a  stronger  reason  for  that  incognita 
than  ye  wot  of."  Then  going  to  a  small  cabinet  which 
stood  in  the  corner,  she  took  from  it  a  roll  of  papers.  "  If 
ye  willtak'  the  trouble  to  read  this,  ye  can  then  see  what 
cause  that  puir  body  had  for  mourning  and  greeting  sae 
much.  She  gave  it  to  me  the  night  she  received  your  let- 
ter. Ah  !  that  letter  came  very  near  killing  the  puir 
body."  But  Murray,  feeling  quite  innocent  of  all  design 
to  wound,  did  not  inquire  into  the  cause;  supposing 
that  Minny  meant  only,  that  she  was  greatly  agitated 
by  receiving  his  communication. 

Dr.  Brown  now  came  in,  and  looking  at  his  watch, 
informed  them  that  it  wxas  long  after  midnight.  Said  he 
must  interrupt  any  further  conversation  for  the  present ; 
that  it  was  all  important  for  Murray  to  rest.  So  he  laid 
his  commands  on  him  to  retire  at  once.  He  then 
attempted  to  take  the  manuscript  from  him,  and  chided 
Minny  for  being  so  thoughtless. 

But  wThen  the  poor,  nervous  man,  saw  that  he  was  to 
be  left  in  solitude,  he  entreated  Mrs.  Brown  to  sit  with 
him  while  he  read,  declaring'  it  was  out  of  the  question 
to  think  of  sleep  in  his  frame  of  mind.  That  dear  little 
embodiment  of  obligingness  had  never  learned  the  art  of 
saying  no,  consequently  she  passed  into  her  room  for  a 


358 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


moment,  said  a  few  words  to  her  husband,  which  were 
satisfactory,  and  returned  to  Col.  Murray. 

They  seated  themselves  by  the  large  lamp,  and  he  com- 
menced the  journal.  It  had  been  written  at  different 
times,  with  a  view  more  to  relieve  her  pent  up  feelings, 
than  with  any  ulterior  object.  In  many  places  the  paper 
was  blotted,  and  sometimes  defaced,  as  if  scalding  tears 
had  been  sprinkled  over  its  pages.  Toward  day,  Minny 
was  called  to  her  own  room,  and  Murray  retired  to  his, 
but  not  to  sleep. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


859 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE    JOURNAL.  THE    FAR    PAST  RECALLED. 

"  'Twas  pretty,  though  a  plague, 
To  see  him  every  hour :  to  sit  and  draw 
His  arch'cl  brows,  his  hawking  eye,  his  curls, 
On  our  heart's  table." 

In  childhood,  I  never  knew  anything  of  happiness, 
other  than  such  as  was  imparted  to  me  by  the  plaintive, 
tender  caresses  of  an  invalid  mother.  I  never  dreamed 
of  joy,  felt  gladness,  or  experienced  delight  save  by  asso- 
ciation with  my  little  cousin,  Charles  Conrad  Murray.  It 
would  be  a  vain  and  idle  task  to  endeavor  to  make  any 
one  comprehend  how  I  loved  that  boy,  or  cherished  that 
mother.  They  constituted  the  whole  world  of  enjoyment 
to  me,  which  was  bounded  by  my  desire  to  please  them. 

I  was  an  only  child  ;  my  parents  had  been  married 
seven  years  when  I  was  born.  This  was  a  long  season 
of  anxious  sadness  to  my  mother,  and  of  irascibility, 
combined  with  a  corroding  dissatisfaction  on  the  part  of 
my  father ;  for  he  was  for  some  family  interest  feverishly 
anxious  to  have  male  issue.  He  became  estranged  from 
his  wife,  left  home,  plunged  into  pleasures,  which  led  to 
dissipation ;  sought  other  firesides,  to  the  total  neglect  of 
his  own ;  became,  as  I  was  told  by  my  nurse,  greatly 
enamored  of  another  lady. 

This  honest  creature  had  taken  care  of  me  from  my 
birth.  She  almost  fancied  that  I  belonged  to  her.  She 
loved  and  pitied  my  mother,  and  most  cordially  disliked 
my  father ;  therefore  took  every  opportunity  to  resent  his 


360 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


neglect  of  us.  She  was  a  single-minded  and  upright 
woman,  did  what  she  believed  to  be  her  duty,  in  defiance 
of  all  obstacles  and  discouragements.  She  conceived  the 
erroneous  notion  that  it  was  her  duty  to  keep  me  informed 
of  all  those  grievances  which  tended  to  increase  the 
instinctive  dread  and  distrust  I  had  of  my  father,  as  wTell 
as  the  tender  devotion  I  felt  for  my  mother. 

During  my  babyhood,  my  cousin  Conrad  was  my  con- 
stant attendant.  Like  me,  he  had  no  companions  at 
home,  no  playmates,  and  was  left  much  to  the  care  of  the 
servants.  His  father  was  first  cousin  to  my  mother,  and 
as  long  as  he  lived,  was  her  devoted  friend.  He  died  soon 
after  my  parents  were  married,  and  before  the  birth  of 
his  son.  His  wife  had  been  a  dashing  belle  and  great 
beauty.  She  was  besides,  shrewd,  diplomatic,  and  artful ; 
full  of  all  sort  of  finesse.  She  was  never  known  to  yield 
to  feeling  but  once  throughout  her  whole  life.  With  her, 
affection,  virtue,  and  all  domestic  duties  were  made  sub- 
ordinate to  worldly  ambition  and  a  feeling  of  revenge. 
Into  these  two  evil  j^assions  were  submerged  all  gentler 
emotions,  and  every  impulse  of  good. 

The  one  grand  passion  of  her  life  was  deep,  intense, 
ungovernable  love  for  Doctor  Glencoe,  my  father.  I  know 
not  whether  he  reciprocated  it,  but  my  family  chronicles 
state  that  he  preferred  my  mother,  who  was  the  antithe- 
sis of  the  fashionable  beauty,  and  the  very  antipodes  of 
my  vain,  worldly  father.  But  she  had  one  possession, 
immense  wealth,  which  if  she  had  been  blessed,  or 
cursed,  with  the  one-hundredth  part  of  their  "  cleverness^ 
could  have  made  them  vassals  to  her,  instead  of  des- 
pots over  her,  as  they  were.  But  my  mother  w^as  soft, 
gentle,  and  yielding,  and  seemed  fitted  only  for  the  domes- 
tic sphere  of  affectionate  wife  and  tender  mother.  Alas  ! 
she  met  no  response  in  the  first  relation  ;  in  the  last,  God 
is  my  final  judge,  but  my  own  heart  acquits  me  of  all 
blame. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


361 


My  first  vivid  impressions  were,  that  I  was  very  happy, 
very  much  blessed  in  having  that  dear  mother,  sweet  lit- 
tle cousin,  and  good  old  nurse.  My  cousin  was  a  spirited 
little  man,  a  very  high-toned  gentleman,  for  his  years. 
Yet  to  my  mother  and  myself  he  was  as  bland  as  the 
sweet  breath  of  flowers,  and  as  beautiful  as  the  face  of 
nature — even  as  much  so  as  my  own  little  Clarence.  (Here 
the  paper  was  blistered  with  tears.) 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  over  every  morning  to 
read  to  my  mother.  Sometimes  he  would  stand  by  her 
bedside  and  fan  her,  while  I  would  learn  a  little  lesson. 
Then  in  the  richest  voice  in  the  world  he  would  say, 
"Now,  cousin  Myra  (my  mother's  name),  I  will  hear 
pet's  lesson."  So  day  after  day  this  scene  of  perfect  love 
and  trust  was  enacted  in  the  chamber  of  the  suffering,  but 
uncomplaining  invalid.  At  last  we  got  to  watch  for  his 
coming,  and  our  hearts  learned  to  bound,  while  gladness 
sparkled  up  from  the  depths  of  that  sick,  oppressed  soul, 
and  mine  leaped  with  joy,  and  sprang  to  meet  him  as  to 
its  home.  Then  I  would  rush  into  his  arms,  and  almost 
smother  him  with  kisses.  My  mother  looked  on  and 
smiled  her  approbation,  while  a  faint  "  G-od  bless  you,  my 
children,"  would  escape  her. 

There  arise  before  me  now  visions  of  my  childhood,  so  real 
that  I  seem  to  live  over  that  "  auld  lang  syne."  Now  I  am 
seven  years  old  and  he  is  twelve.  Neither  one  of  us  has 
been  sent  to  school.  His  mother  is  quite  absorbed  in  the 
dissipations  of  the  place,  a  large  commercial  city,  and 
very  fashionable  withal ;  the  only  aristocracy  being  a 
monied  one.  Mrs.  Murray,  as  I  have  said  before,  lacked 
means  to  carry  out  her  splendid  projects  of  grandeur,  so 
essential  to  the  gratification  of  her  burning  thirst  to  be 
the  leader  of  ton.  It  seems  my  father  was  her  adviser 
and  abettor  in  all  those  schemes  of  self-aggrandizement. 

There  was  nothing  which  they  would  not  have  done,  no 
sacrifice  was  too  great  to  be  made,  in  order  to  compass  their 
31 


362  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

ends.  My  old  nurse  used  to  say  to  me  c  Dear  child,  they 
would  sell  you  both  —  poor  little  lambs — to  the  soul  driv- 
ers, for  fifty  thousand  dollars,  provided  they  could  keep  it 
a  secret ;  then  they'd  divide  it  atween  'em.'  This  woman 
wTas  a  mulatto,  and  extremely  good-looking  for  a  negro ; 
had  very  mild,  benevolent  features ;  I  can  never  forget 
her ;  she  is  linked  in  my  memory  with  the  only  days  of 
sunshine  I  ever  knew,  and  the  only  other  two  beings 
whom  I  have  ever  loved.  When  a  girl  herself,  she  had 
carried  my  mother  about  in  her  arms,  and  now  she  is  her 
friend  and  companion,  and  oftentimes  her  only  solace. 
She  divides  this  mighty  love  between  myself  and  mother, 
and  at  this  time  lavishes  as  much  care  and  attention  on  me, 
as  she  had  done  heretofore  on  her. 

Still,  this  generous-hearted  negress  had  her  faults  :  she 
was  more  loving  than  discreet  or  discriminating.  I  owe 
it  to  her  early  influence,  that  I  am  inclined  to  suspect  all 
great  professions  of  friendship  ;  to  look  for  hollo wness  or 
something  worse  beneath  all  beautiful  exteriors ;  to  fear, 
that  every  bright,  smooth  surface,  if  not  quite  transpar- 
ent, conceals  a  turbid  under-current.  Whether  she  had 
ever  experienced  the  mildew  of  hope  or  the  blight  of  affec- 
tion, I  know  not ;  but  there  was  a  tide  of  bitterness  ever 
surging  up,  which  oftentimes  engulphed  the  otherwise 
placid  stream  of  her  life.  Conrad,  as  well  as  myself,  hon- 
ored and  loved  this  woman. 

I  had  forgotten  to  state,  that  Mrs.  Murray,  in  her  own 
total  neglect  of  her  son,  had  provided  a  private  tutor  for 
him  —  a  poor  relation,  who  wTas  good,  and  moral,  and  vir- 
tuous. Thanks  to  him  for  the  solid  foundation  on  which 
was  afterward  reared  that  beautiful  superstructure. 

About  this  time,  when  I  am  nine  years  old  and  my 
cousin  is  sixteen,  a  great  change  is  taking  place  in  our 
household.  My  father  is  seized  with  a  sudden  concern 
about  my  mother's  health.  He  comes,  "Oh,  strange  to 
tell,"  to  see  her  sometimes.    On  one  of  these  occasions, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


363 


affects  to  feel  anxious  about  her ;  places  his  finger  on  her 
pulse,  and  tells  her  she  is  feverish.  In  a  kind  voice,  regrets 
that  she  will  exert  herself,  and  thus  put  forth  her  strength 
to  her  own  injury,  about  her  daughter.  (He  always  spoke 
of  me  thus.)  That  the  superintending  the  education  of 
such  a  willful  girl  must  be  a  great  tax,  and  would  prove 
too  much  for  her  feeble  frame. 

During  this  colloquy,  my  nurse,  cousin,  and  myself  were 
sitting  behind  a  large  screen  which  my  mother  kept  before 
the  oriel  window  to  break  the  light  from  her  eyes,  which 
were  weak,  I  think,  from  much  weeping.  Nurse  had  given 
the  sign  for  silence,  and  in  an  instant  we  became  as  mute 
as  the  chairs  on  which  we  sat.  My  father  continued  to 
speak,  and  nurse  to  curl  her  lip  in  scorn. 

"  Myra,  my  love,  indeed  you  over -task  yourself  with 
those  two  children.  That  boy  of  Mrs.  Murray  is  always 
here,  and  in  fact  seems  to  share  your  fondness  equally 
with  your  own  little  girl.  ISTow  Mrs.  Murray  is  a  woman 
whom  I  do  not  like.  She  is  all  for  self;  I  do  not  think 
she  should  impose  this  trouble  on  you  merely  to  allow 
herself  more  latitude  for  frivolity,  and  because  the  lad's 
father  was  your  cousin,  and  perchance  a  cidevant  lover. n 

He  said  this  with  acrimony;  for  notwithstanding  he 
did  not  love  my  mother  himself,  he  was  jealous  by 
nature,  and  could  not  endure  that  any  one  else  should 
love  her.  His  only  feeling  for  us  both  was  that  of  the 
tyrant  for  the  victim,  the  master  for  the  slave.  We  were 
his,  and  none  must  meddle :  he  must  do  with  us  as  seem- 
eth  him  best,  and  none  must  pluck  us  out  of  his  hands. 
As  to  myself,  my  position  with  my  parent  was  truly  unfor- 
tunate ;  he  never  forgave  me,  from  the  moment  of  my 
birth  up  to  the  present  time,  "  for  not  being  a  boy."  I 
committed  the  unpardonable  sin  in  this  first  act,  and  was 
therefore  doomed  to  bear  his  everlasting  displeasure. 

It  was  in  vain  that  my  mother  declared  herself  able  to 
proceed  with  the  same  course ;  in  vain  that  she  protested 


364 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


against  any  innovation,  and  assured  him  that  the  pleasure 
she  felt  in  imparting  instruction  to  me,  and  in  the  com- 
panionship of  her  little  cousin  Charles,  were  the  greatest 
sources  of  enjoyment  left  her.  She  wept,  and  sobbed,  and 
finally  became  ill.  Then  he  left,  with  an  awful  impreca- 
tion on  everything.  As  soon  as  he  wTas  gone,  we  both  ran 
to  the  bedside  of  my  poor  mother,  and  blended  our  pro- 
testations of  love  and  duty,  with  our  lamentations  for  her 
sorrows. 

Much  to  our  surprise  my  father  returned ;  both  hands 
full  of  nostrums.  Mrs.  Murray  was  with  him.  On  seeing 
us,  he  looked  annoyed,  and  there  was  an  angry  rebuke 
ready  on  his  tongue ;  but  when  she  said,  "  Why,  Conrad, 
what  are  you  doing  here  in  a  lady's  bed-room,  at  such  a 
time  as  this?"  the  scowl  faded  from  his  face,  and  he 
stopped  to  listen  to  the  oracle  from  whence  he  drew  his 
inspiration. 

My  cousin  had  laid  my  mother's  hand  down,  and 
speaking  up  boldly,  dared  to  say  to  his  imperious  mother, 
"  Madam,  I  am  here  to  aid  my  little  cousin  Anna,  in  her 
efforts  to  bring  her  poor  mother  to  life  :  for  by  heavens ! 
she  is  fretted  out  of  it."  And  he  gave  an  angry,  defiant 
glance  at  my  father. 

"  Leave  the  room,  sir,"  said  his  autocratic  mother. 

"  No,  my  dear  Madam,"  said  my  diplomatic  father, 
smiling  blandly  on  her,  and  turning  condescendingly  to 
my  cousin,  as  he  placed  his  hand  on  his  head,  "  let  him 
remain.  My  dear  wife  is  very  fond  of  her  little  cousin, 
and  I  assure  you  it  does  us  all  good  to  have  him  with 
us.  Besides  I  think,  from  present  symptoms,  he  inclines 
to  be  a  disciple  of  Esculapius,  and  will  doubtless  take  his 
first  lesson  with  his  cousin  John." 

The  boy  jumped  away  from  him,  throwing  his  hand 
violently  off,  and,  with  flashing  eyes  and  quivering  lips, 
said : 

M  Sir  I  demand  an  explanation  of  this  taunting  insult." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


365 


He  stood  in  a  menacing  attitude,  while  his  ashen  face, 
rigid  features,  and  stern,  statuesque  figure  expressed 
intensified  anger.  He  had  heard  my  father's  conversa- 
tion with  my  mother,  ami  young  as  he  was,  he  was  the 
embodiment  of  honor,  candor,  and  truth. 

"  Leave  the  room,  I  say,  sir  !  "    The  boy  did  not  stir. 

The  red  spot  is  on  the  lady's  cheek,  and  she  bites  her 
lip  until  the  blood  shows  on  her  teeth  ;  but  she  controls 
herself  while  she  adds,  "  Charles  Conrad  Murray,  I  bade 
you  leave  this  room.  Your  preceptor  is  waiting  for  you, 
while  you  waste  your  time  in  silly  dalliance  with  that 
weak  little  girl,  and  her  worse  than  imbecile  mother." 
He  looked  at  me  deprecatingly,  and  then  threw  a  glance 
of  boundless  pity  on  the  invalid,  and  left  the  room. 

The  patient  soon  revived  —  for  my  father  was  a 
prompt,  skillful,  and  efficient  practitioner.  Then  the  two 
conspirators  sat  down  there  by  the  bedside  of  my  poor, 
weak,  sick,  and  confiding  mother ;  and  ere  they  left,  she 
was  willing  to  believe  that  that  woman,  with  the  oily 
tongue,  and  Siren  voice,  was  the  best  friend  she  had  in 
the  world ;  and  that  it  was  her  great  misfortune,  and  not 
my  father's  fault,  that  he  did  not  love  her ;  and  so  she 
yielded  to  that  drug,  administered  to  both  body  and  mind, 
and  fell  asleep,  sweetly  and  soundly,  never  doubting  or 
suspecting. 

"  Molly,  take  that  malapert  girl  to  her  room,  and  do  not 
let  her  leave  it  until  I  give  my  permission,"  said  Doctor 
Glencoe. 

When  we  were  there  and  the  door  closed,  the  good 
creature  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and  taking  me  in  her 
arms,  burst  into  tears.  Her  sobs  were  varied  by  such 
interjections  as  the  following:  "Poor  Miss  Myra!  she  trust 
everybody !  Anybody  can  fool  that  dear  cretur !  I'm 
that  mad  and  sorry,  too,  that  I  can't  hardly  breathe  the 
breath  of  life !  Thar  they  is,  setting  thar  by  the  poor 
thing,  plotting,  plotting  !   And  they  want  to  begin  on  this 


366  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

child.  (Then  she  presses  me  violently  to  her  bosom  — 
well-nigh  crushing  every  bone  in  my  body.)  But  they 
shan't!  I'll  —  I'll  watch  'em  !  I'll  head  'em  this  time! 
Old  Molly  Wise  didn't  live  with  her  young  mistress  thirty 
years  or  more,  and  with  her  father  all  her  lifetime,  to  let 
neither  one  nor  the  t'other  of  his  offsprings  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  cruel  fowler,  nor  the  Witch  of  Vendor, 
neither.  She  didn't,  that!  No,  I'll  save  this  one — I 
will!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  He  say  he  don't  like  that  woman ! 
I  wonder  ef  he  did  fool  poor  Miss  Myra  that  away  ?  " 

I  looked  up  into  her  face,  I  suppose  with  amazement; 
for,  with  aii  impatient  gesture,  she  said,  "What  you  look 
at  me  that  away  for,  child?    What  you  want  ?  " 

£C  Aunt  Molly,  you  don't  think  my  father  would  tell 
his  wife  a  story,  do  you  ?  He  would  not  do  such  a  base 
thing." 

"Story!  bless  God!  call  things  by  thar  right  name; 
call  it  lie.  Yes,  he  will  tell  her  lie,  and  do  any  thing  else, 
so  that  he  can  blind  her  eye  against  the  wiles  of  that 
woman." 

"  Why,  does  papa  love  her  more  than  he  loves  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  honey,  else  he  wouldn't  love  her  much." 

"  Oh  !  Aunt  Molly,  tell  me  why?  why  does  he  love  her 
more  than  he  does  my  gentle,  sweet  mother?  Is  it 
because  she  is  dashing  and  splendid  looking  —  and  — " 

"  Yes,  lamb,  all  that,  and  because  she's  a  snake,  and  can 
charm  everybody  she  chooses ;  and  because  your  mother 
is  innocent  and  pure,  and  child-like,  and  loving,  and  can't 
head  'em ;  but  above  all,  because  she's  sick,  because  she's 
sick !  "  and  the  faithful  slave  almost  shrieked  out  the  last 
words ;  so  great  was  her  indignation  against  them,  and 
so  strong  the  feeling  of  compassion  for  my  mother. 

"  Poor  dear  mamma  !  "  cried  I ;  "  may  God  help  her, 
then  !  If  what  you  say  be  true,  she  will  need  it."  And  I 
crept  from  her  arms,  and  laid  me  down  on  the  carpet,  and 
cried  myself  to  sleep. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


367 


When  I  awoke  it  was  almost  night,  and  in  that  room 
nearly  dark;  Aunt  Molly  sat  nodding  in  her  chair.  I 
think  I  see  her  now,  with  her  brown  calico  dress  on,  and 
white  apron,  with  blue  and  yellow  madras  hander chief 
on  her  head.  I  shook  her,  until  she  awoke;  then  told 
her  I  was  hungry.  "  Poor  child  !  He  order  me  to  keep 
you  in  this  room  tell  he  call  you  !  Well  !  honey,  Aunt 
Molly  is  nigger,  she  'bleege  to  obey  orders  if  she  loose 
her  life  by  it.  She  been  do  that  all  her  lifetime.  But 
bless  God!  that  call  aint  come  yit.  Dinner  bell  ring,  then 
tea  bell  sound,  and  still  that  call  aint  come." 

A  very  lady -like  tap  at  the  door,  Molly  opens  it,  and 
Mrs.  Murray  enters,  looking  flushed  and  excited.  "  Good 
heavens,  Molly !  what  do  you  mean  by  not  bringing  the 
girl  to  see  her  mother  for  so  long,  and  to  the  table?  " 

"  Humph  !  I  obey  orders,  mam ;  that's  what  I  mean." 
"  Surely  you  were  not  so  silly  as  to  understand  Dr.  Glen- 
coe  literally?  Why,  he  did  not  mean  what  he  said  at  all." 

"  Yes,  mam,  I  is  jest  that  silly,  and  being  a  literal 
'oman,  I  thought  he  did  mean  ezactly  what  he  did  say. 
But  I  suppose  by  this  time  there  be  no  longer  any  reason 
to  keep  us  out  of  the  way  any  more.  I  hope  he  feels 
better  under  it  ail."  This  was  said  with  the  look  and 
voice  of  concentrated  sarcasm. 

Mrs.  Murray's  beautiful  face  flushed  up,  and  I  saw  hate 
blaze  in  her  eyes ;  but  she  sat  down  and  began  to  talk 
very  mildly,  and  in  a  short  time  the  surface  was  as 
smooth  as  ever.  She  smiled  sweetly  on  Molly  and  said, 
"Ah  !  nurse,  on  account  of  your  many  good  qualities,  and 
in  view  of  your  tried  fidelity  to  our  family,  your  tongue 
is  a  licensed  one.  Here,  Molly,  take  this  douceur  and 
make  a  little  feast  to  compensate  for  the  loss  of  your  din- 
ner." She  reached  out  a  piece  of  gold  coin,  and,  much  to 
my  grief  and  mortification,  Molly  received  it. 

I  have  remarked  one  thing  with  regard  to  our  slaves. 
Let  them  be  ever  so  true  and  faithful  in  the  discharge  of 


368  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

duty,  let  them  even  scorn,  as  they  do  sometimes,  the 
remotest  imputation  of  dishonesty  in  stealing,  or  in  all 
other  criminal  transactions,  still  they  are  open  to  this 
temptation.  I  have  known  many  instances  of  heroism, 
self-abnegation,  and  noble  devotion  in  the  slave  to  his 
master;  yet  I  have  never  met  one  who  had  the  strength 
of  purpose  and  magnanimity  of  soul  to  resist  and  spurn 
a  bribe. 

So  this  little  piece  of  gold  had  a  very  lubricating  influ- 
ence on  the  before  stern  feelings  of  the  good,  honest 
(according  to  the  negro  standard)  Molly.  And  when  the 
smiling,  urbane,  and  snaky  lady  said,  u  Come,  my  good 
woman,  assist  Marianna  to  dress,  and  let  her  come  down 
quickly  to  tea,"  she  said  not  a  word,  but  proceeded  to  obey 
her. 

When  Mrs.  Murray  had  left,  she  gave  a  little,  low  wrhis- 
tle,  which  ended  with  a  sinister  sort  of  chuckle,  and  wound 
up  by  saying,  "  Well,  bless  God  !  I  don't  reckon  the  man 
can  help  it,  and  I  won't  be  so  hard  on  him  hereafter.  I 
jest  does  believe  that  she  fascinates  him,  and  gets  round 
him  so  like  a  witch,  or  a  fairy,  or  a  serpent,  as  she  does 
everybody  wThat  comes  in  her  way.  I  'spect  he  can't  help 
hisself,  and  so  does  whatever  she  wants  him." 

"Do  you  think,  Aunt  Molly,  she  employs  the  same 
means  to  win  papa  that  she  has  used  with  you,  to-night?" 

"  Oh  hush,  child  !  you  don't  know  what  you  is  talking 
about,"  and  the  blood  mantled  her  tawny  cheeks,  sent 
there  by  a  feeling  of  shame,  which  for  a  short  time  had 
hid  itself  away  in  some  curtained  place  of  her  naturally 
upright  heart.  "  You'll  be  jest  like  all  the  rest  under  her 
thumb  in  less  than  no  time ;  then  I'll  ask  you  hard  ques- 
tions, too." 

I  was  now  ready  to  descend  to  the  parlor.  On  passing 
my  mother's  room,  1  ran  in  to  kiss  her.  I  found  Conrad 
there,  reading  to  her.  When  I  took  my  cousin's  hand  to 
lead  him  down  to  tea,  as  I  had  done  almost  every  day  for 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  369 

the  last  five  years,  he  withdrew  it,  and  stooping  down, 
kissed  my  cheek,  as  he  said,  u  I  can  not,  cousin  Anna.  I 
will  never  set  at  that  man's  table  again,  until  he  apologi- 
zes to  me  for  that  insult.  I  hate  him,  anyhow.  Oh  !  how 
I  do  hate  him  !  " 

u  I  don't  like  him  either,"  said  I;  "  but  I  fear  I  commit 
a  sin  when  I  say  so.  It  is  no  harm  for  you,  you  know, 
cousin,  but  he  is  my  father,  and  all  that,  and  you  "  

"Hush  !  children  ;  I  can  not  listen  to  you.  You  dis- 
tress me  greatly.  I  must  never  hear  such  conversation 
between  you,  again.  Charles,  you  should  teach  your  little 
cousin  better  things." 

Another  summons  called  me  to  the  tea-table,  wmere  Mrs. 
Murray  presided  with  great  majesty,  looking  radiant  in 
spirits  and  beauty. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  watched  my  father ;  and  the 
conviction  entered  my  soul  like  an  ice-bolt,  that  what  I  had 
heard  from  my  nurse  was  true.  He  did  indeed  seem  to  be 
under  a  spell.  I  think  I  never  saw  him  look  so  happy  in 
my  life,  and  I  know  he  never  looked  half  so  handsome. 

There  were  a  few  other  guests  present,  who  seemed 
much  disposed  to  caress  and  flatter  me  ;  but  when  one  of 
the  gentlemen  offered  to  lead  me  to  the  piano,  saying, 
"  Come,  Miss  Clencoe,  you  must  sing  me  that  very  beau- 
tiful song  I  heard  you  play  the  other  evening  "  (my  mother 
had  taught  me  music  on  three  instruments),  and  I  had 
taken  my  seat  at  the  instrument,  having  run  my  fingers 
over  the  prelude,  Mrs.  Murray  came  hurriedly  from  the 
hall,  and  said,  "  My  dear  —  excuse  me,  sir,"  bowing  to  the 
gentleman — "your  mother  wishes  to  see  you  for  a 
moment." 

"Is  she  wTorse?  "  cried  I,  starting  up,  "  Is  anything  the 
matter?" 

"  Yes  —  no  —  I  don't  know.  She  wants  to  see  you  ;  go 
and  see." 

I  darted  up  stairs  ;  but  ere  I  reached  my  mother's  room, 


370 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


I  heard  Mrs.  Murray's  loud  and  rather  fine  voice  in 
the  same  song.  When  I  entered,  I  found  all  things 
just  as  I  had  left  them.  Conrad  is  reading ;  my  mother 
is  very  composed,  and  Aunt  Molly  is  sitting  by,  nod- 
ding. When  I  asked  her  why  she  had  sent  for  me  in 
such  haste,  she  seemed  surprised,  and  said  she  had 
not  even  asked  for  me.  I  then  related  what  occurred 
in  the  parlor.  Nurse  sat  shaking  in  her  chair.  "  He  ! 
he  !  he !  I  told  you  so ;  everybody,  great  and  small,  must 
mind  that  'oman." 

So  time  passed,  and  my  dear  mother  grew  more  feeble 
every  day.  In  a  few  months  she  has  become  so  emacia- 
ted that  she  can  scarcely  rise  from  her  bed.  My  cousin 
is  still  untiring  in  his  attentions.  He  also  superintends 
my  education.  There  is  no  great  change  in  the  family 
during  the  two  years  that  have  glided  so  quietly  away, 
save  that  I  am  sometimes  frightened  at  the  strength  of 
my  affection  for  my  boy  lover.  Oh  what  halcyon  days 
were  those  !  and  how  joyous  they  would  have  been  but 
for  that  poor,  sick,  suffering  mother.  During  all  this  time, 
she  is  still  the  same  patient  woman,  the  meek  invalid,  the 
resigned  Christian.  We  are  sitting  in  her  room  to-day, 
as  of  yore.  I  am  reciting  my  lesson  to  my  cousin  :  my 
mother  is  holding  a  hand  of  each.  My  father  comes  on 
us  suddenly.  He  frowns  darkly  on  Conrad,  then  turning 
to  me,  said,  "  Marianna,  I  have  private  business  with  your 
mother.  Take  your  books  to  your  own  room.  I  don't 
know  whether  this  young  gentleman  will  choose  to  fol- 
low you  there  or  not,  but  he  really  does  seem  to  have  the 
run  of  this  horse  very  completely." 

An  imploring  look  toward  my  cousin  from  my  mother, 
and  a  frightened  one  from  me,  quelled  the  storm  which 
was  ready  to  burst  over  my  father's  head  at  the  slightest 
provocation.  He  kissed  her  hand  (and  I  think  with  a  feel- 
ing of  defiance,  and  a  mischievous  desire  to  brave  my 
father  on  his  own  premises),  threw  his  arms  around  my 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


371 


neck  and  embraced  me  with  much  apparent  unction, 
bowed  with  mock  reverence  to  Doctor  Glencoe,  and  with 
a  taunting  laugh  ran  out  of  the  room.  Nurse  drew  me 
along  to  the  aforementioned  screen,  behind  which  she 
ensconced  herself  and  forced  me  down  by  her  side. 

"  Myra,"  said  my  father,  "  I  fear  you  are  declining  very 
rapidly.  I  can  no  longer  delay  it.  I  am  resolved  to  have 
a  lady  in  the  house  with  you,  as  a  friend  and  companion ; 
one  who  can  aid  you,  or  take  the  entire  charge  of  your 
daughter's  education.  I  hope  you  will  not  attempt  to  resist 
my  commands,  when  I  say  that  that  forward  boy,  whom 
I  have  just  sent  away,  must  be  banished  from  this  house 
forever.  On  no  account  let  me  hear  of  his  being  admit- 
ted to  your  private  room,  your  bed-chamber,  again.  Why 
surely,  madam,  the  innate  delicacy  of  your  nature  slept, 
when  you  consented  to  receive  that  young  man  here,  every 
day  as  you  lie  in  bed,  undressed,  and  your  daughter,  too, 
present,  when  she  is  now  also  a  young  woman ;  at  least 
she  is  verging  toward  it." 

When  I  heard  this  I  was  seized  with  a  wTild,  vague 
sort  of  fear.  I  had  never  thought  of  our  ever  being  young 
men  and  women.  My  mother  was  lying  with  her  eyes 
shut,  seeming  not  to  heed  him. 

"Myra,  do  you  hear  me?"  said  he,  slowly,  and  trem- 
bling with  anger  at  the  mere  possibility  of  his  having 
spoken  so  many  words  in  vain.  She  nodded  her  head, 
but  did  not  open  her  eyes.  "  Then,  remember  what  I  say, 
Will  you?" 

u  Ah  yes  !  and  may  God  forgive  you  for  saying  it,  and 
for  thinking  of  such  a  thing.  There  are  but  few  avenues 
left  open  to  me  for  enjoyment,  now.  When  you  have 
closed  this  one,  I  know  not  where  I  shall  turn.  I  fear  it 
is  the  last." 

"  Why,'  you  do  indeed  attach  very  great  importance  to 
the  society  of  this  son  of  your  old  lover." 


372 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  A  truce  to  all  nonsense  !  I  have  no  heart  for  such 
folly,  and  I  will  not  listen  to  it.  State  your  business 
simply  and  succinctly,  else  leave  me  alone." 

"  Hoity,  toity !  This  is  a  new  phase  on  the  face  of 
things.    What  is  in  the  wind  now  ?  " 

"  Proceed,  sir.  A  worm  will  turn  sometimes,  when 
trod  on." 

"  Aye  !  And  sting,  maybe,  hey?  Wouldst  sting  thy  hus- 
band? Ha!  ha!  ha!  Wouldst  sting  thy  loving  husband, 
Myra?" 

I  struggled  in  the  grasp  of  the  nurse;  I  burned  to 
confront  this  hard,  cruel  father,  and  demand  of  him,  child 
as  I  was,  how  he  dared  thus  to  maltreat  my  gentle 
mother.  But  the  woman  held  me  fast,  and  I  was  forced 
to  listen. 

"  Now,  there  really  is  no  use  in  all  this.  I  rather  think 
I  am  master  of  this  establishment ;  and  have  very  little 
idea  of  submitting  to  dictation,  or  the  least  bit  of  rebel- 
lion in  my  province.  I  have  written  for  my  niece 
Amanda  Glencoe  (who  about  a  year  since  lost  her 
parents),  to  come  and  reside  with  us.  I  therefore  request 
you  to  receive  her  as  a  relation,  and  shall  require  you  to 
make  her  home  as  comfortable  as  possible,  in  her  uncle's 
house.  Are  you  pleased  or  displeased  with  this  announce- 
ment, madam?" 

My  mother  did  not  speak. 

"  Myra,  I  have  asked  you  a  question.  Will  you  do  me 
the  honor  to  answer  me  now,  or  must  I  repeat  it?"  said 
my  father,  angrily. 

"  I  have  no  power  to  resist  your  commands,  whether 
pleasing  or  otherwise,"  said  his  poor  wife. 

"  Then  it  is  settled.  And  I  shall  expect  you  to  deport 
yourself  becomingly  toward  the  wealthy,  high  bred  rela- 
tion of  your  husband,"  said  my  father,  with  pride. 

"  When  will  she  arrive,  sir?" 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


373 


"  I  think  in  a  week  or  less  time.  'Now  promise  me, 
my  wife,  that  you  will  discard  from  your  presence  that 
insolent  boy ;  I  mean  young  Murray,  who  is  not  a  fit 
associate  for  your  daughter." 

"  I  wTill  not  promise,  sir.  I  will  not  do  such  violence 
to  my  nature.  I  shall  not  deny  myself  or  my  child  this 
innocent  enjoyment." 

After  a  few  more  taunts  and  angry  words  from  my 
father,  and  a  firm  resistance  against  his  unreasonable 
exactions  from  my  mother,  he  left  the  room. 


374  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE    JOURNAL  A  GIFT. 

"  Though  my  many  faults  defaced  me, 
Could  no  other  arm  be  found, 
Than  the  one  which  once  embraced  me 
To  inflict  a  cureless  wound." 

A  week  passed,  and  the  lady  has  not  come ;  another 
has  glided  by,  and  she  is  not  here.  My  mother  seems  to 
feel  relieved  by  this  respite.  She  experiences  an  indefin- 
able sort  of  dread  of  my  cousin  Amanda  Grlencoe.  A  fore- 
boding of  evil  has  taken  possession  of  her  mind,  in  view 
of  her  becoming  an  inmate  of  our  house. 

One  morning,  finding  her  disposed  to  talk,  I  said : 
"Mamma,  did  you  ever  see  Miss  Amanda  Glencoe?" 

"  ]STo,  my  dear,  I  have  never  seen  her,  and  would  to 
God  I  never  could  see  her." 

"  Why,  mamma  ?  My  dear  mother,  tell  me  why  ?  I  will 
not  speak  of  it." 

"  "Will  you  not,  my  love  ?  "  said  she,  kissing  me.  "  I 
know  you  are  a  very  good  girl,  and  astonishingly  discreet 
for  one  so  young.  I  should  not  fear  to  tell  you  anything. 
First,  your  father's  relations  are  very  supercilious — very 
fond  of  wealth  and  splendid  show.  They  have  never  for- 
given me,  because  my  fortune  was  not  commensurate  to 
their  expectations,  which  were  boundless.  This  young 
lady  and  her  brother,  though,  are  themselves,  both 
wealthy.  In  consequence  of  many  deaths  in  their  imme- 
diate family,  they  have  become,  I'm  told,  possessed  of  an 
immense  estate." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


375 


"  Well,  mamma,  if  she  is  so  rich,  she  may  not  share 
that  spite  toward  you  with  the  balance  of  them." 

"  Perhaps  not,  my  darling ;  but  I  can  not  feel  otherwise 
than  I  do.  I  have  known  nothing  but  sorrow  and  vexa- 
tion since  I  first  heard  the  name  of  Glencoe.  I  never 
hear  it  even  now,  but  a  sort  of  shivering  seizes  upon  me. 
Would  to  God  you  were  old  enough  to  change  it,  my  little 
daughter." 

"  Mamma,  may  1  ask  you  a  question?  You  will  not  be 
offended?" 

"  Certainly  not.    Speak,  my  love." 

"  Was  not  yours  a  match  of  affection  ?  " 

"  On  my  part,  intensely  so.  But  constant  bickerings, 
cross  looks,  without  words;  slights,  without  open  neglect; 
petty  persecutions,  without  cause  or  reason ;  all  these 
little  things  without  one  overt  act  of  maltreatment,  will 
break  down  and  destroy  the  most  ardent  affection ;  even 
as  the  tide  against  the  firmest  rock,  which  has  breasted 
many  a  storm,  by  daily  surgings  will  wear  it  away  at 
last.  And  now,  my  love,  my  dear  little  daughter,  your 
mother  has  told  you  the  secret  of  her  soul,  which  is  the 
groundwork  of  that  resignation  to  the  seeming  stern 
decree  which  calls  me  away  from  my  child !  I  have  no 
hope,  no  confidence,  no  respect,  therefore  no  love  for  my 
husband!"  My  mother  covered  her  face  with  her  thin, 
white  hands,  and  remained  quite  still. 

I  wept  for  a  long  time,  then  suddenly  recollecting  what 
the  nurse  had  told  me  about  my  father's  infatuation  for 
Mrs.  Murray,  I  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Mamma,  is  there  any  reason  for  this  behavior  on  the 
part  of  my  father,  that  you  know  of?" 

"  Yes,  child,  perhaps  so,  I  don't  know ;  we  will  not 
investigate  it.  The  Glencoes  are  inconstant  by  nature. 
They  are  wayward,  willful,  capricious,  and  jealous,  as  I 
too  well  know.  The  old  lady,  your  grandmother,  is  an 
exception." 


376 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  When  shall  I  ever  see  her,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  child  ;  I  wish  she  were  coming  instead 
of  this  girl.    'Now  call  Molly,  my  dear." 

When  the  nurse  came,  my  mother  whispered  to  her  for 
some  time,  and  I  heard  the  woman  say  — 

"Yes,  mam,  if  there  was  any  way  to  get  to  see  him; 
but  every  servant  in  the  house  is  ordered  to  shut  the  door 
in  his  face.  He  has  already  been  turned  twice  away  by 
your  order." 

"  Oh  !  what  a  system  of  fraud  and  duplicity  is  carried 
on  in  this  house  !  But,  nurse,  this  only  makes  the  neces- 
sity more  imperative. 

"  Molly,  I  must  see  that  dear  boy.  I  may  die  suddenly, 
and  ere  I  do,  I  wish  to  commend  my  child,  as  if  in  the 
hour  of  death,  to  his  care.  When  Miss  Glencoe  is  once 
established  here,  then  will  there  be  no  opportunity.  I 
feel  that  she  is  to  be  a  spy  on  this  household." 

"  Ah  yes  !  dear  child  !  I  knows  that  too,  and  there  is 
no  time  to  lose ;  the  room  all  put  in  order,  and  the  Doctor 
expecting  her  every  minit.,, 

When  we  left  my  mother's  room,  nurse  caught  me  up 
in  her  arms,  and  told  me  that  my  mother  wanted  to  give 
me  to  my  cousin  for  his  little  wife,  and  that  she  was  in 
great  dread  lest  she  should  die  before  she  could  get  to  see 
him.  Therefore,  she  was  going  to  smuggle  him  up  to  her 
room  by  the  private  stairway.  How  strange  I  felt !  I 
had  always  claimed  my  cousin  as  belonging  to  myself  and 
mother,  and  knew  that  we  both  loved  him  as  dearly  as  we 
did  each  other,  which  wTas  much  more  than  we  loved  our- 
selves :  but  I  felt  now,  that  I  should  not  feel  the  same 
freedom  toward  him,  and  knew  this  would  pain  him ; 
therefore  I  dreaded  the  meeting. 

All  day  the  good  Aunt  Molly  was  lying  in  wait.  She 
hung  about  the  street.  (Mrs.  Murray  lived  opposite.) 
She  went  over  to  the  kitchen,  and  watched  about  the 
premises.     In  the  course  of  an  incidental  gossip,  she 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


377 


learned  that  their  young  master  was  in  a  strange  way; 
that  he  would  not  eat ;  did  not  sleep  ;  had  thrown  by 
his  books,  and  refused  to  see  any  one  about  the  house,  and 
that  they  "raily  and  sartainly"  did  "  b'lieve  that  she  was 
at  the  head  and  foot  of  the  whole  of  it." 

Molly  asked  carelessly  where  he  was  ?  They  told  her 
he  was  locked  up  in  his  room.  "  Then,"  said  she,  rising, 
"  I  must  see  him." 

"  Aye,  gal ;  ef  you  gits  to  see  him,  you  smarter  'an  any 
nigger's  bin  'bout  dis  house  lately." 

She  had  gotten  almost  to  his  door,  when  Mrs.  Murray 
came  out  from  an  adjoining  room,  and  said,  very  quietly, 
"  Well,  Molly,  how  are  all  at  home  to-day  ?  I  hope  your 
poor  mistress  is  better.  See  here,  I  have  a  new  recipe 
for  her.  Come  into  my  room."  And  then  she  kept  on 
talking,  in  that  sweet  seductive  way  which  was  peculiar 
to  her. 

Presently  Molly  said,  "  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Conrad  a 
minute." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  and  tell  him  at  once ;  but,  poor  fellow, 
he  is  not  well.  Something  is  the  matter  with  his  chest,  I 
fear."  She  returned,  and  said,  still  smiling,  but  now  in  a 
would-be  plaintive  way,  "  Molly,  he  begs  to  be  excused 
to-day,  on  the  score  of  bad  feelings.  Is  it  anything  to 
which  I  can  attend?  " 

H  Oh  no,  ma'am,  jest  a  little  business  'twixt  he  and  me." 
Susan,  the  lady's  maid,  looked  at  Molly  knowingly,  and 
turned  up  her  eyes  with  a  very  "  Now,  did  you  ever"  sort 
of  expression. 

The  lady  then  showed  the  negro  out  herself,  talking 
rapidly  all  the  time.  But  this  good  creature  never  ceased 
her  vigilance.  She  resorted  to  various  subterfuges  and 
devices,  but  they  all  failed.  After  a  while,  Susan  came 
over,  and  said  her  mistress  never  went  near  her  young 
master's  room  to  deliver  Molly's  message.  Then  she  was 
entrusted  with  one,  but  that  also,  like  every  other  expe- 
32 


378 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


client,  fell  to  the  ground.  My  mother  seemed  to  grow 
nervous  under  these  disappointments,  and  was  threatened 
with  severe  illness. 

Toward  night  my  father  came  in ;  and,  after  giving  her 
the  usual  attention  from  physician  to  patient,  said,  u  Myra, 
to-morrow  my  niece  will  arrive  at  mid-day ;  I  am  called 
into  the  country.  (He  had  his  riding  gloves  and  wdiip 
in  his  hand,  and  was  booted  and  spurred.)  I  may  not  get 
back  in  time  to  introduce  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  closing  her  eyes. 

After  I  had  given  my  mother  her  tea,  and  taken  my 
own  supper,  I  seated  myself  by  her  bedside  with  a  book, 
for  I  had  now  taken  my  banished  cousin's  place.  Molly 
came  with  her  knitting,  and  dropped  down  into  the  low 
chair  in  which  she  always  sat,  and  was  preparing  for  her 
usual  nap. 

"  O  Molly,  this  would  be  such  a  good  time  to  see 
Conrad." 

"  Yes  indeed,  honey,  but  I  don't  know  now  how  you 
gwine  to  manage.  I  done  try  every  'spedient  a'ready. 
But  I  does  think  if  Miss  Pet  would  jest  go  right  along  up 
stairs,  she  maybe  might  catch  him;  and  if  so,  then  my 
advice  is  to  tell  him  above  board  that  her  mother  wants 
to  see  him,  no  matter  who  hears." 

My  mother  looked  at  her  watch,  and  said,  "  Yes,  that 
will  do.  I  will  not  give  you  any  message  or  direction, 
but  will  trust  to  chance,  and  whatever  tact  you  may  pos- 
sess. Throw  your  cloak  on,  and  let  Molly  go  with  you 
and  wait  at  the  street  door." 

When  we  reached  there,  the  servant,  who  was  on  very 
good  terms  with  nurse,  suffered  me  to  pass  without  any 
noise  or  delay.  It  wras  now  near  nine  o'clock.  I  ran 
lightly  up  stairs,  looking  to  the  right  and  left,  and  every- 
where for  my  cousin.  I  found  Mrs.  Murray's  confidential 
maid,  Tivvy,  fast  asleep  on  her  post.  She  had  been  placed 
as  sentinel  to  guard  the  door.     I  tapped  lightly,  but 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


379 


receiving  no  invitation  to"  enter,  I  opened  the  door  and 
walked  into  Mrs.  Murray's  boudoir. 

For  one  moment  I  was  transfixed  to  the  spot.  There 
sat  my  father  at  the  end  of  a  sofa,  with  the  recumbent 
form  of  Mrs.  Murray  in  his  arms.  At  first  I  thought  the 
lady  had  fainted,  and  he  was  supporting  her  lifeless  body. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  scream  out  for  assistance ;  but 
when  I  saw  him  stoop  down  and  kiss  her  several  times, 
and  heard  her  murmur  some  soft,  loving  words,  in  which 
"dear  one  "  was  the  burden,  I  at  once  felt  myself  growing 
blind.  Whether  it  was  that  sort  of  affection  which  makes 
all  rabid,  venomous  things  blind,  or  whether  it  was  the 
frenzy  of  anger,  I  know  not,  but  all  things  seemed  to  reel 
and  grow  dark  before  me.  I  felt  if  I  did  not  give  vent  to 
my  feelings  I  should  die  instantly.  I  walked  right  up  to 
them,  and  then  w^ith  an  uncontrollable  burst  of  passion, 
and  I  fear  in  a  very  coarse,  loud  voice,  exclaimed, 

"  Shame  !  shame  on  you  !  Or  are  you  lost  to  all  shame?" 
They  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  for  one  moment  stood 
quite  still,  looking  like  twTo  guilty  things. 

In  a  short  time  they  recovered.  Mrs.  Murray  was  the 
first  to  speak.  She  laughed  carelessly.  My  father  seemed 
to  be  infuriated.  His  eyes  emitted  flames,  and  I  verily 
believe,  had  he  obeyed  that  first  impulse,  he  would  have 
torn  me  to  pieces. 

"Why,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  "  what  is  the  matter?  " 

"  I  am  shocked,  madam,  to  find  you  and  my  father  in 
such  a  situation.    Shame  !  shame  on  you  both  !  " 

"Begone  !  you  insolent,  despicable  little  wTretch  !  " 

"  Silence!  "  said  the  siren,  in  the  most  imperative  voice. 
He  sat  down  as  a  slave,  or  a  little  child  would  have  done. 

"Why,  you  little  fool!  "  said  the  lady,  "  wThat  was  it? 
You  saw  my  head  lying  on  your  father's  knee.  Where  is 
the  harm  ?  How  often  have  you  lain  in  your  cousin  Con- 
rad's arms  ?  You  little  witch  !  you  have  turned  his  head 
completely.    Your  father  is  my  cousin,  and  as  such  I  love 


380 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


him.  Do  you  not  love  your  cousin  Conrad  ?  Say,  does 
he  not  sometimes  give  those  little  pouting  lips  a  cousinly 
kiss?" 

I  felt  my  cheeks  glow.  I  also  saw  that  they  wratched 
me  closely. 

"  My  father  told  my  mother  that  he  was  called  to  the 
country,"  said  I. 

He  would  then  have  spoken,  and  the  angry  spot  was 
still  on  his  cheek,  and  the  fiery  look  in  his  eye,  but  when 
she  had  said,  u  your  father  is  my  cousin,"  she  had  taken 
her  seat  by  his  side  again,  and  now  when  he  would  have 
uttered  an  angry  rejoinder,  she  put  her  hand  on  his  arm 
and  spoke  for  him.  u  So  he  is  going,  still.  Do  you  not 
see  the  riding  paraphernalia?"  pointing  to  the  spurs. 
M  He  did  but  call  to  see  me  a  moment.  I  have  been  indis- 
posed for  several  days." 

"I  heard,"  said  I,  trembling,  stammering,  and  blush- 
ing, u  that  cousin  Conrad  was  very  ill,  and — and  —  I  — 
I"  

u Ah,  yes!  I  understand,  and  your  little  loving  heart 
yearns  to  pour  out  its  sympathy  into  his  no  less  loving 
ears." 

She  rang  the  bell.  When  Tivvy  entered,  rubbing  her 
eyes,  she  received  a  furious  glance.  "  Tell  Master  Conrad 
to  go  down  to  the  parlor  ;  I  wish  to  see  him  there." 

She  returned  shortly,  and  whispered  to  her  mistress ; 
after  which,  Mrs.  Murray  got  up,  and  taking  me  by  the 
hand,  turned  to  my  father  and  said,  "  I  wish  to  see  you 
here,  one  moment,  before  }^ou  ride.    Wait  for  me." 

We  descended  to  the  parlor,  where  I  found  my  cousin, 
at  first  looking  very  miserable.  He  sprang  to  meet  me, 
saying,  "This  is  indeed  a  joyful  surprise."  I  hardly 
think  he  saw  his  mother,  else  he  felt  more  temerity  in 
that  presence  than  anybody  else  ever  did.  He  clasped 
me  to  his  breast,  and  kissed  me  perhaps  fifty  times ;  I 
don't  know  precisely,  for  he  left  me  no  breath  to  count. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


381 


Then  disengaging  myself,  I  stepped  suddenly  aside,  and 
lie  came  in  contact  with  Mrs.  Murray.  He  looked  sul- 
lenly at  her,  without  speaking,  bowing  coldly. 

"  My  dear  Conrad,"  said  she,  "Doctor  Grlencoe  and  his 
daughter  were  sitting  with  me  ;  "  and  she  turned  her 
expressive  eyes  on  me,  which  said  as  plainly  as  her  tongue 
could  have  spoken,  "  Do  not  contradict  me."  u  He  is  now 
called  suddenly  away  to  the  country  ;  I  wish  you  to  see 
Marianna  home.  I  do  not  mean  to  be  inhospitable,  but, 
dear  children,  it  is  late." 

I  gave  her  my  hand,  Conrad  looked  sad  and  dissatisfied. 
Then,  as  we  left  the  room,  he  caught  her  hand  hurriedly, 
and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Do  not  leave  poor  little  Anna  to  go  alone  through 
those  long,  dark  passages.  If  the  servant  is  not  there,  go 
with  her  up  to  her  mother's  room.  I'm  sure  cousin  Myra 
wrants  to  see  you  by  this  time." 

"  Well  !  if  this  does  not  surpass  any  thing  !  That  is 
surely  the  most  remarkable  woman." 

Molly,  who  was  just  behind,  touched  my  arm,  and  I 
stopped  short. 

"What?  what  is  it?"  eagerly  asked  my  cousin." 

"  Oh  nothing,  only  I  think  your  mother  must  be  an 
enchantress.  She  certainly  is  the  most  fascinating  human 
being  I  ever  saw." 

u  Or  maybe  ever  will  see,"  said  he,  with  a  deep  sigh ; 
"  my  mother  is  indeed  what  you  say,  cousin  Anna.  It 
were  better,  if  she  were  not  quite  so  charming  some- 
times." 

We  were  now  before  my  mother's  door;  but  ere  Molly 
opened  it,  she  drew  us  aside,  and  said,  "  Now,  children, 
don't  go  to  talking  about  nothing  in  thar,  that'll  excite 
your  mother.  Don't  mention  Dr.  Glencoe's  name  at  all, 
if  you  want  that  poor  thing  to  have  any  satisfaction  with 
her  cousin  Charles  ;  what  she  bin  want  to  see  so  much. 
Mind  what  I  say  now  !  "    Then  she  opened  the  door,  and 


382 


T  H  E     N  1  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


we  passed  in.  Conrad  kissed  my  mother  tenderly,  and 
ere  they  spoke  a  word,  they  both  had  a  hearty  cry.  He 
forbore  to  speak  at  all  of  his  absence ;  and  when  she 
pressed  him  to  tell  the  cause,  he  shook  his  head  and  said, 
"  There  is  no  use  to  advert  to  it.  Dear  cousin  Myra,  let 
us  enjoy  the  present,  without  turning  to  the  past  or  look- 
ing to  the  future." 

"  My  son,  it  is  of  the  future  that  I  wish  to  speak,  and 
alas !  I  fear  it  must  be  hurriedly  and  briefly.  To-mor- 
row a  lady  arrives  here,  who  may  be  perfection  for  aught 
I  know,  but  she  belongs  to  a  race,  and  bears  a  name 
♦  which  has  made  my  life  a  blight.  I  have  a  presentiment 
that  she  is  introduced  into  my  family  to  play  the  spy  on 
it.  This  is  the  reason  why  I  was  so  importunate  with  my 
messages.  I  have  dispatched  a  great  many  since  I  saw 
you." 

<£  Why,  madam,  what  do  you  say  ?  I  have  not  received 
one.  The  slightest  intimation  would  have  brought  me  to 
your  bedside.  Did  I  ever  fail  to  obey  your  summons  in 
my  life?  "  Just  then  Molly  cleared  her  throat  in  a  very 
significant  way,  but  Conrad  cried  eagerly,  "  Go  on  ma- 
dam." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have  been  deceived.  These  were 
surely,  unmistakable  symptoms.  Do  you  not  love  my 
dear  child,  Charles  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  more  than  life  !  "  said  he,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Then  take  her,  my  son.  There  are  no  witnesses, 
save  that  good,  honest  creature  who  sits  there  dozing; 
but  she  is,  and  ever  will  be,  as  true  and  efficient  a  friend 
as  you  will  ever  find  in  this  world.  But  G-od,  who  sees 
you,  and  hears  me,  will  as  surely  bring  you  to  judgment, 
if  you  are  not  true  to  each  other." 

She  had  drawn  me  to  him,  and  now  I  rested  trust- 
ingly on  his  bosom,  listening  to  the  impassioned  beating 
of  his  young  heart. 

My  mother  continued :    "  You  are  very  young,  too 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


383 


young  yet ;  but  remember,  when  the  time  comes,  and 
you  are  old  enough,  she  is  yours,  I  having  given  her  to 
you  for  your  wife.  And  now,  my  children,  take  your 
last  embrace  for  the  night.  Kiss  me,  my  son.  I  can 
die  in  peace  with  such  faith  as  I  feel  in  you  both." 

My  father  came  while  we  were  at  breakfast.  He  in- 
quired carelessly  about  my  mother,  but  looked  keenly 
into  my  face.  He  seemed  to  be  satisfied  by  the  scrutiny 
and  the  answer,  for  he  said  no  more,  but  sat  sipping 
his  chocolate  in  a  moody,  abstracted  manner.  When  I 
had  finished  my  coffee,  I  begged  him  to  excuse  me ;  I 
had  my  mother's  breakfast  to  prepare.  She  loved  to 
have  that  little  slice  of  cold  ham,  and  the  one  piece  of 
toast  brought  to  her  by  me.  This  had  been  my  busi- 
ness, and  the  greatest  pride  of  my  life,  ever  since  I  was 
large  enough  to  raise  the  waiter. 

I  was  now  standing  at  the  window^,  a  carriage  stopped 
at  the  door,  and  a  stylish  lady  and  gentleman  got  out. 
Presently  a  servant  came  up.  "  Doctor  Glencoe  say,  he 
will  like  to  see  little  Miss  Anna  in  the  parlor  right  now." 

I  felt  a  degree  of  trepidation,  and  almost  alarm, 
hitherto  unknown  to  me,  under  any  circumstances.  I 
remembered  that  nurse  carried  me  to  my  room,  arranged 
my  hair,  smoothed  my  ringlets,  which  were  very  dark, 
and  quite  long.  It  was  the  month  of  December  ;  and  I 
also  recollect  that  I  wore  a  crimson  cashmere  dress,  and 
a  piece  of  very  fine  Valleneiennes  lace  at  the  throat.  This 
made  up  the  details  of  my  toilet.  When  I  reached 
the  door,  my  father  met  me,  and  led  me  up  to  the  stylish 
lady.  I  saw  an  expression  of  surprise,  and  the  gentle- 
man and  lady  exchanged  looks. 

"  My  daughter — your  cousin  Amanda — your  cousin  John 
G-lencoe."  The  former  kissed  me  courteously.  The  latter, 
a  very  smart,  fashionable,  rather  dandified,  medium-sized 
man,  with  fine,  dark  whiskers,  hair  some  lighter,  and 
eyes  still  a  little  more  so,  came  forward,  took  my  hand, 


384  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

kissed  my  cheek,  led  me  to  a  seat,  and  placed  himself 
by  me ;  then,  in  an  easy,  well-bred  wTay,  commenced  talk- 
ing on  indifferent  subjects ;  but  I  remarked  that  he  never 
took  his  eyes  from  my  face. 

The  lady  had  thrown  off  her  bonnet  and  mantle,  and 
was  sitting  near  the  cheerful  fire,  seeming  to  feel  as  much 
at  ease,  and  as  entirely  at  home  as  if  she  had  been  there 
a  year.  Great  wealth  always  lends  this  sort  of  clever 
self-possession  if  not  self-sufficiency  to  its  possessors.  But 
these  two  persons  did  seem  to  be  well  bred.  They  mani- 
fested not  the  least  arrogance  or  assumption  of  dignity. 
Why  should  they?  They  were  used  to  opulence,  and  had 
enjoyed  the  homage  paid  to  it  all  their  lives.  Besides, 
they  were  on  most  excellent  terms  with  themselves. 

Miss  Glencoe  was  not  particularly  pretty,  but  was 
remarkably  pleasing.  She  had  gray  eyes  and  dark  lashes, 
fine  complexion,  with  a  rich  tint  on  her  cheeks,  wmile  the 
glowT  of  good  health  mantled  her  face  and  neck  and  per- 
vaded every  movement.  She  had  fine  teeth,  and  her 
mouth  would  have  been  decidedly  pretty,  nay  beautiful, 
but  for  a  nervous  sort  of  twitching  of  the  upper  lip.  The 
brother  also  possessed  this  peculiarity  (even  in  a  greater 
degree),  which  made  you  feel  doubtful,  while  looking  at 
him,  whether  the  face  was  about  to  relax  into  a  graceful 
smile,  or  to  contract  into  a  bitter  sneer.  They  resembled 
each  other  greatly  in  all  things. 

My  cousin  Amanda  wore  a  black  broadcloth  riding-dress 
richly  braided.  She  was  in  mourning,  and  her  jewels,  with 
all  the  other  appointments  of  her  toilet,  were  in  keeping. 
Her  form  was  faultless,  and  like  her  brother's,  medium  size. 

After  she  had  conversed  with  my  father  for  some  time, 
with  as  much  self-complacency  as  affability,  she  turned  to 
me,  and  said,  "  My  dear,  when  your  cousin  John  has 
caressed  those  incomparable  ringlets  long  enough,  I  beg 
you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  go  with  a  message  to  your 
mamma?  " 

n 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


385 


I  rose  at  once,  very  glad  of  a  pretext.  The  gentleman 
had  become  quite  too  demonstrative  of  his  admiration. 
"  I  am  ready,  cousin,"  said  I,  approaching  her. 

"  Then  give  my  love  to  my  aunt,  and  say  to  her  that  I 
would  be  glad  to  come  up  and  greet  her  if  she  will  receive 
me." 

Soon  after,  I  conducted  her  to  my  mother.  In  a  mar- 
velous short  time,  she  had  managed  to  soothe  my  dear, 
easy,  gentle  mamma  into  a  feeling  of  respect,  and  those 
deep-rooted  prejudices  were  being  removed.  She  had  also 
cajoled  my  nurse  into  a  state  of  endurance.  As  to  myself, 
1  was  ready  to  fall  dead  in  love  with  her  at  once.  What 
a  gift  is  gentle  address  and  urbane  manners  !  Yet  I  did 
not  feel  at  all  attracted  toward  my  cousin  John,  although 
they  were  alike.  I  recoiled  from  all  familiarity,  and  sick- 
ened at  his  protestations  of  admiration. 

After  a  while,  I  offered  to  conduct  my  cousin  to  her 
room,  thinking  she  might  wish  to  dress  for  dinner. 

"  Wo/'  said  she  ;  "  if  my  aunt  will  suffer  me,  I  will  just 
peep  into  her  mirror."  Thus  inducing  the  belief  that  her 
personal  appearance  was  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference 
to  her. 

She  asked  to  have  her  dressing-case  brought,  and  then 
I  found  that  she  gave  the  most  scrupulous  attention  to 
these  duties.  Every  plait  of  hair,  her  eyebrows,  her  com- 
plexion—  in  short,  that  whole  head  had  undergone  a 
thorough  renovation  in  a  few  moments.  When  she  turned 
again  toward  us,  I  thought  her  almost  beautiful,  so  much 
had  she  been  improved  by  the  mysteries  of  that  toilet 
case. 

On  reaching  the  dining-room,  we  found  Mrs.  Murray 
and  my  cousin  Conrad  there.  They  had  both  been  invited 
by  my  father  to  meet  his  relatives.  After  the  presenta- 
tions were  over,  he  offered  to  hand  his  niece  to  the  head 
of  the  table,  but  she  declined,  and  begged  Mrs.  Murray  to 
33 


386 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


take  the  seat.  This  simple  act  of  courtesy,  so  gracefully 
done,  seemed  at  once  to  break  down  that  conventional 
frigidity  which  always  succeeds  an  introduction  at  a  din- 
ner party.  Conrad  Murray,  I  thought,  appeared  to  watch 
her  with  a  curious  but  pleased  attention.  Her  great 
vivacity,  the  constant  play  of  feature,  her  bright  smile 
(only  marred  by  that  curling  upper  lip),  her  ready  wit, 
with  that  easy  flow  of  conversation,  seemed  to  enchant 
every  one. 

Dinner  passed  off  pleasantly.  Conrad  was  about  to 
offer  me  his  arm,  as  we  adjourned  to  the  parlor,  when 
Mrs.  Murray,  seeing  this,  called  me  hurriedly  to  the 
window,  pretending  to  point  out  something.  She  whis- 
pered to  me:  "My  love,  take  your  cousin  John's  arm. 
I  am  anxious  that  Conrad  shall  come  out  of  the  mopes. 
So  let  him  hand  Miss  Glencoe  to  the  parlor.  You  see  this 
is  also  due  her." 

I  at  once  assented.  Indeed  I  was  convinced  of  the  pro- 
priety of  what  she  said ;  therefore  I  turned  and  laid  my 
hand  on  Mr.  Glencoe's  arm,  which  seemed  to  please  every 
one  present  save  the  one  I  most  desired  to  please  on 
earth.  When  I  did  this  —  for  me,  very  familiar  thing  — 
he  looked  surprised,  and  his  face  flushed  ;  then  stepping 
up  to  cousin  Amanda,  he  conducted  her  to  the  drawing- 
room.  There  she  enchained  him  to  her  side  by  the  spell 
of  her  charming  conversation.  Presently  he  handed  her 
to  the  piano,  and  then  hung  over  her  while  she  played ; 
turned  the  music;  asked  for  song  after  song;  and  was 
so  taken  up  that  he  seemed  to  ignore  all  else  in  the 
room.  I  could  stand  this  no  longer,  and  being  bored 
to  death,  now,  by  my  cousin  John's  compliments,  I  broke 
away. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  my  mother  wants  me."  I  ran  up 
stairs,  threw  myself  down  by  her  side,  and  burst  into 
tears.    I  wept  several  minutes  before  I  could  tell  her. 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  387 

Then  I  sobbed  out,  "  0  mamma!  your  fears  were,  indeed, 
prophetic.  She  has  taken  him  from  me  already!  She 
has  charmed  him  on  first  sight !  He  has  not  spoken  to 
me  since  she  came  !  " 

Just  then  there  was  a  light  tap  at  the  door.  Molly 
opened  it.  "  God  bless  your  sweet  soul  and  face !  I'm 
t-h-a-t  glad  to  see  you  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
myself!  Look  a-there !  the  poor  thing's  a-dying  of 
jealously  a'ready  of  the  strange  woman  and  her  little 
husband." 

Yery  soon  all  was  explained  satisfactorily,  and  we  were 
once  more  a  very  happy  trio.  Alas !  there  is  always  a 
drawback !  Mrs.  Murray  came  tripping  into  the  room 
without  rapping,  and  Conrad  disappeared. 

I  was  never  again  left  alone  wTith  my  cousin  Conrad, 
but  constantly  with  my  cousin  John.  We  had  not  now 
met  alone  for  more  than  a  month.  I  could  not  under- 
stand wherefore;  and  I  was  far  from  feeling  reconciled. 
Yet  he  appeared  cheerful  when  we  met  in  company,  and 
had  never  sought  an  interview  that  I  knew  of,  offered 
explanation  or  apology. 

Whenever  he  came  to  see  my  mother,  which  he  did 
sometimes  by  her  request,  sometimes  voluntarity,  either 
my  father,  cousin  John,  or  cousin  Amanda  was  sure  to  be 
present.  I  wras  in  despair.  I  hated  them  all  by  turns. 
I  could  not  forgive  him,  that  he  was  so  quiescent  under 
this  surveillance.  I  had  thought  that  he  would  pull  the 
house  down  over  their  heads,  rather  than  submit  to  this 
system  of  espionage. 

At  last,  during  one  of  those  sittings,  he  managed  to  slip 
a  note  into  my  hand.  He  did  this  most  adroitly  for  one 
so  unpracticed  in  artifice.  Still  I  think  Miss  Glencoe 
saw  it,  although  her  head  was  turned  from  us.  I  ran 
to  my  room,  locked  the  door,  and  falling  on  my  knees, 
read  the  following  note,  which  had  been  scratched  off  in 
haste : 


388 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  My  dear  little  Wife  —  If  I  do  not  get  to  see  you 
soon,  I  will  either  shoot  myself  or  run  away.  It  seems 
that  the  members  of  both  families  have  combined  to  keep 
us  apart.  I  can  not  exist  under  this  state  of  things.  I 
have  waited  thus  long  to  see  what  it  would  come  to  ;  now 
I  must  see  you,  if  at  the  point  of  the  sword,  or  the  mouth 
of  the  pistol.  Meet  me  in  the  conservatory  to-night  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Bring  Molly  with  you  if  you  choose. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better,  in  case  of  a.  surprise  ;  and 
then  you  know  we  are  such  children  (as  our  dear  mother 
said)  we  may  need  a  guardian.  Come  when  they  have 
all  retired.  I'm  convinced  that  you  wish  to  see  me,  my 
love,  and  if  you  fail  me,  I  shall  not  blame  you.  But  come. 
God  bless  my  little  bride. 

C.  C.  Murray." 

I  put  this  note  into  my  writing-case,  locked  it,  and  hid 
the  key.  At  the  appointed  hour,  nurse  and  I  stole  down 
quietly  to  the  basement,  thence  to  the  garden.  In  a  few 
moments  more,  I  was  resting  confidingly  and  happily  on 
the  bosom  of  the  only  man  I  have  ever  loved.  He 
explained  all  seeming  mysteries.  We  renewed  our  vows 
of  love  and  constancy,  and  swore  that  we  were  more  in 
love  with  each  other  than  ever,  which  was  swearing  to  a 
great  deal. 

Then  my  cousin  began  to  plead  with  me  to  elope  with 
him,  and  be  married,  children  as  we  were;  saying  so  inno- 
cently, "  Dear  cousin  Anna,  we  will  grow  old  just  as  fast, 
and  maybe  faster  if  we  are  married.  Then  they  can  not  sep- 
arate us."  Nurse  cleared  her  throat  disapprovingly.  He 
continued,  "  I  have  at  last  divined  their  plans,  which  had 
all  been  concocted  by  your  father  and  my  mother  before 
Miss  Glencoe  and  her  brother  came.  The  scheme  is  to 
have  me  married  to  your  cousin  Amanda,  and  you  to  your 
cousin  John,  so  that  the  two  immense  fortunes  shall  be 
kept  in  the  family." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


389 


He  had  overheard  a  conversation  the  evening  before,  in 
which  he  learned  this,  and  also  why  we  were  never  per- 
mitted to  meet.  He  said  he  knew  matters  would  grow 
wTorse  day  by  day,  and  presently  we  would  be  called  on, 
at  least  I  would,  to  ratify  this  engagement  with  John 
Glencoe.  And  then  this  boy  fell  on  his  knees,  and 
entreated  me  so  earnestly  to  place  myself  under  his  protec- 
tion, to  leave  home  with  him  at  once  for  this  purpose,  that 
aided  as  he  was  by  the  pleadings  of  my  own  heart,  I 
think  he  would  have  carried  his  point  with  me,  had  it  not 
been  for  my  nurse,  who  had  sat  so  still  that  wTe  had  for- 
gotten her  presence. 

"Oh  no,  bless  God!  children,  I  can't  not  consent  to 
that.  I  never  gwine  to  give  in  to  that,  no  how.  I  jest 
brought  Miss  Pet  here  to  talk  little  while  with  you,  'cause 
them  clever  ones  in  the  house  watch  over  you  so  close ; 
but  I  got  to  carry  her  back.  Bless  God  !  I  got  to  do  that 
thing.  Thinks  honey,  of  your  mother.  Could  either  of 
you  do  sich  a  thing  without  asking  her  advice  and  con- 
sent? No,  I  know  you  couldn't  to  save  the  lifetime  of 
you.  And  my  little  lady  there,  not  yet  near  fourteen 
years  old,  and  Mr.  Conr&d  not  much  more." 

"  Oh,  forgive  us,  nurse  !  "  exclaimed  I,  "  we  were  crazy ; 
we  would  not  be  guilty  of  such  madness,  and  thus  cause 
you  and  my  darling  mother  such  sorrow." 

"  Cousin  Anna,  I  do  not  indorse  that  statement.  /  am 
neither  crazy  nor  mad  ;  nor  did  I  deem  you  so.  I  appeal  to 
you,  good  nurse,  is  a  man  mad  or  crazy  because  he  tries 
to  circumvent  his  enemies,  and  wishes  to  protect  his  fam- 
ily from  oppression  by  resorting  to  the  best  means  open  to 
him,  to  secure  his  and  their  happiness?  Would  you  call  a 
man  mad  or  crazy  for  doing  this?    Speak,  good  nurse." 

"  No,  honey,  certainly  not ;  no  man  would  be  to  blame 
for  doing  sich  things,  but  I  can't  say  so  much  for  boy.  I 
can't  not  say  that  it  is  right  all  the  same  way  for  young 
boy." 


390 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"What  do  you  mean,  old  woman?"  said  he,  starting 
up  ;  "  do  you  mean  "  

"  Nothing  more  nor  less  than  what  I  says,  child."  And 
the  good-natured  creature  laughed  a  little,  low  titter. 
Then  we  consulted  together,  and  it  was  settled  that  we 
would  talk  it  over  with  my  mother,  and  return  at  the 
same  hour  the  next  night. 

Just  at  that  juncture,  when  we  were  feeling  so  secure, 
we  heard  a  suppressed  sneeze.  We  all  sprang  to  our  feet, 
and  in  great  consternation  looked  to  the  right  and  left, 
but  of  course  we  could  see  nothing,  as  it  was  quite  dark. 
Molly  thought  it  best  that  my  cousin  should  not  venture 
into  the  house,  and  promised  to  arrange  another  meeting 
with  my  mother.    So  we  separated. 

When  I  reached  my  room,  I  found  a  large  traveling 
trunk,  dressing  case,  writing  desk,  etc.  And  when  I 
looked  into  my  escrutoire  for  the  note,  it  could  not  be  found. 

I  had  a  terrible  foreboding  of  evil,  I  could  not  think, 
I  could  not  w^eep,  I  could  not  even  undress  myself.  I 
should  have  sat  there  gazing  at  that  trunk  all  night,  if 
my  good  nurse  had  not  come  in  to  put  me  to  bed. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH, 


391 


CHAPTEE  XXXVII. 

THE    JOURNAL.  AN  INTRIGUANTE. 

"  Farewell  to  the  few  I  have  left  with  regret ; 
May  they  sometimes  recall  what  I  can  not  forget." 

"  At  last  I  know  thee,  and  my  soul  from  all  thy  acts  set  free, 
Abjures  the  cold  consummate  art  'shrined  as  a  soul  in  thee, 
Priestess  of  falsehood,  deeply  learned  in  all  heart  treachery ! 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  I  had  not  left  my 
room  ;  I  had  taken  no  breakfast ;  had  not  slept ;  I  felt 
stunned.  My  father  opened  the  door  and  came  up  to  me 
even  before  I  saw  him.  "  Marianna,  have  you  seen  your 
mother,  to-day?  " 

u  I  have  not,  sir  ;  I  have  not  yet  left  my  room  :  "  and  I 
looked  proudly  up  into  his  face. 

I  expected  he  had  come  to  upbraid  me ;  and  being 
guiltless  of  all  wrong,  I  felt  defiant,  and  was  prepared  to 
hurl  back  every  reproach  and  accusation.  But  not  so  ; 
and  great  was  my  surprise  when,  looking  at  him,  I  only 
saw  an  expression  of  subdued  misery.  This,  to  me,  was 
inconceivably  touching.  My  proud,  rebellious  feelings 
were  in  an  instant  changed  to  those  of  interest,  and  the 
most  respectful  sympathy.  I  eagerly  asked,  "  Dear  sir, 
what  is  the  matter?  Why  did  you  ask  me  that 
question,  and  why  do  you  look  so  sorrowful  ?  I  have 
not  heard  that  my  mother  is  worse.  She  is  not  ill  —  is 
she,  sir  ?  " 

"  ~No  !  It  is  not  of  her  that  I  would  now  speak.  Listen 
to  me." 

"  What  is  it,  then,  sir  ?  "  cried  I. 


392 


THE    NIG  H T    W  ATCH 


"  It  will  avail  you  nothing  to  tell  you.  Words  can  not 
help  you.  Poor  deluded  child  !  I  pity  you,  from  my 
inmost  soul.  Oh  !  I  am  forced  to  pity  you.  False  !  false 
hearted  wretch !  And  so  young,  so  promising,  and  so 
handsome !  " 

I  threw  myself  on  my  knees ;  I  caught  his  hand, 
bowed  my  head  on  it,  and  implored  him  to  explain  him- 
self, before  I  should  lose  my  reason.  O  my  God  !  I  felt 
my  brain  reel ! 

He  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
mine,  said  in  a  voice  full  of  pity,  "Alas  !  I  can  not !  Get 
up.    Your  mother  is  waiting  to  see  you." 

[Col.  Murray  had  read  poor  Myra's  Journal  up  to  this 
point  with  intense  emotion  ;  sometimes  so  overcome,  that 
he  was  forced  to  stop  and  wipe  his  e3^es.  But  when  he 
came  to  this  portion  of  it,  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaim- 
ing, "  The  perfidious  monster  !  Oh  !  what  is  it  all  ?  For 
what  purpose  is  this  intricate  and  diabolical  woof  of 
treachery  woven  ?  "    He  resumed  his  seat  and  read.] 

When  I  went  to  my  mother's  room  I  found  her  in  tears, 
and  before  she  saw  me  I  heard  her  exclaim  passionately, 
H  I  do  not  believe  it !  I  care  not  what  is  said  of  her,  and 
I  care  not  who  says  it.  I  believe  her  to  be  as  pure  as  the 
4  angels  in  heaven.'  I  know,  and  God  knows,  and  I  think 
you  all  know,  that  my  precious  lamb  is  free  from  spot  or 
blemish"— — 

My  father  went  up  to  her  hurriedly,  and  with  a  stern 
look  said,  "  Silence,  madam,  else  you  shall  not  be  indulged 
with  this  last  interview."  She  sunk  back  on  her  pillow, 
and  continued  to  sob. 

Cousin  Amanda  was  hanging  tenderly  and  pityingly 
over  her.  And  as  I  sat  watching  her,  I  believed  her  to  be 
then  a  ministering  spirit  sent  to  sustain  my  mother  in 
this  her  extremity.  Poor  dear  mamma  seemed  to  think 
so  too,  for  she  turned  to  her  —  uOh,  my  friend,  compas- 
sionate me,  and  intercede  with  that  stern,  hard  man,  your 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  393 


uncle,  to  leave  me  my  child,  just  the  little  while  that  1 
shall  be  here  in  this  world  of  woe !  " 

She  wThispered  for  some  time  to  my  poor  half  dead 
mother,  and  when  she  raised  her  head,  her  face  was 
streaming  with  tears.  I  felt  at  that  moment  like  falling 
down  and  worshiping  her.  In  after  years  I  learned  that 
she  possessed  some  strange  power,  by  which  she  could 
induce  the  lachrymose  humor  at  any  moment,  without 
the  least  feeling,  and  when  her  heart  was  untouched. 
She  came  up  to  my  father,  who  was  standing  apart,  hold- 
ing me  by  the  hand,  and  looking  very  significantly  into  his 
face,  said,  u  Uncle,  let  the  child  embrace  her  mother." 

I  threw  myself  into  the  arms  of  my  darling  mamma. 
I  vowed  most  solemnly  that  I  had  done  no  wrong  ;  I 
assured  her  that  I  never  dreamed  of  its  being  amiss  to 
meet  my  cousin  anywhere  and  at  any  time,  and  that  my 
nurse  was  only  taken  for  protection  by  the  way  to  the 
rendezvous.  I  was  going  on  to  explain  further,  when  she 
said,  u  Hush  !  my  love  ;  I  know,  I  understand  all.  I  also 
know  that  you  were  goaded  on  to  commit  this  little  indis- 
cretion ;  but  were  one  to  come  from  the  dead,  and  tell  me 
that  my  pet  lamb  had  erred,  I  would  not  believe  it.  Oh 
no  !  But  they  have  made  this  a  pretext  to  tear  you  from 
me.    You  are  to  be  sent  away." 

My  father  approached,  and  shaking  my  mother  rudely, 
said,  "Woman,  cease  this  silly  tirade  ;  I  am  tired  of  it." 
She  did  not  seem  to  heed  him,  but  continued  her  lamen- 
tations. "  Oh  !  when  they  send  her  away,  tear  my  poor 
child  awray,  then  will  life  become  a  weary  waste  indeed. 
This  is  the  last  flower  left  blooming  on  my  solitary  path- 
way !  The  only  sunbeam  which  ever  reaches  my  frozen 
heart.    Alas  !  "  

I  heard  no  more.  My  pitiless  father  dragged  me  back 
to  my  room,  where  I  found  my  maid  holding  my  travel- 
ing bonnet  and  mantle. 


394 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  Tempy,  do  your  business  quickly,"  said  he,  and  he 
took  his  seat  to  watch  the  process.  That  mournful 
expression  had  passed  from  his  face,  and  in  its  stead  was 
a  hard,  stern,  resolute  look.  I  became  sick,  unable  to 
think  or  act ;  was  now  perfectly  passive  in  their  hands. 

When  I  wras  dressed  in  my  traveling  attire,  my  father 
led  me  to  the  parlor  to  take  leave  of  my  family.  I  found 
there  my  cousin  John  and  Mrs.  Murray.  I  looked  around 
for  my  dear  Conrad.  Then  those  mysterious  words  of 
my  father  came  to  my  mind.  I  think  I  should  have 
fainted,  had  not  Mrs.  Murray  come  to  me,  and  entwining 
her  arms  around  my  waist,  embraced  me,  and  at  the  same 
time  whispered,  "  My  dear,  your  poor  cousin  is  as 
w7retched  as  yourself,  yet  he  would  be  in  the  street  to 
offer  his  adieus  (these  doors  have  again  been  closed  against 
him),  but  he  is  too  ill  to  rise  from  his  bed." 

Strange  and  inexplicable  thing  is  the  human  heart.  I 
loved  my  cousin  more  than  my  own  soul,  and  would  have 
died  with  him,  in  defense  of  our  attachment ;  or  without 
him,  to  prove  its  truth  ;  or  for  him,  to  save  him  from 
death,  or  sorrowr,  wThich  is  worse  ;  yet  notwithstanding  all 
this,  when  I  heard  he  was  ill,  a  thrill  of  joy  ran  through 
my  whole  frame.  Anything  but  the  realization  of  those 
dark  hints  from  my  father.  I  would  at  that  moment  have 
preferred  to  hear  of  his  death,  and  would  have  consented 
to  pass  a  long  life  in  solitude,  mourning  his  loss.  But 
I  would  have  dashed  myself  to  pieces  from  the  first  hight 
with  frantic  joy,  had  those  insinuations  been  confirmed. 

My  cousin  Amanda  now  came  into  the  room  and  pre- 
sented me  with  a  small  parcel  from  my  mother.  She 
shed  a  great  many  tears  over  me,  bade  me  feel  easy  about 
my  mother,  said  she  would  watch  over  her  as  if  she  were 
her  own  parent,  and  whispered,  "  Do  not  be  disheartened, 
he  shall  write  to  you  very  soon.  Your  father  is  aggrieved, 
and  feels  himself  dishonored  by  the  last  night's  transac- 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


395 


tion,  and  seems  harsh  ;  but  never  mind,  have  a  little 
patience,  it  will  all  blow  over,  and  we  will  have  you  back 
very  soon." 

I  almost  adored  my  cousin  at  the  time,  and  should  have 
told  her  so,  had  I  not  been  admonished  by  that  upper  lip 
that  there  was  hollowness  in  the  heart.  Oh,  that  wonder- 
ful upper  lip  !    It  kept  me  at  bay,  always. 

Murray  strikes  his  forehead  fiercely,  and  rising,  paces 
the  room  in  great  agitation,  as  he  exclaims,  u  Great  God  ! 
I  can  scarce  believe  what  my  eyes  trace  on  this  blotted 
and  anguish-marked  paper.  I  was  not  ill  that  morning, 
I  slept  in  peace,  dreaming  of  elysium.  And  when  I  awoke 
at  a  late  hour,  I  thought  the  sun  shone  more  gloriously 
bright  and  beautiful,  and  life  itself  was  fraught  with  more 
hapjnness  for  me  than  ever  before.  Oh,  I  felt  wild  with 
joy  !  I  thought  only  of  the  meeting  which  I  had  had,  and 
the  one  yet  in  prospective.  I  found  a  pitcher  of  hot  lem- 
onade on  the  hearth,  which  I  drank  off  with  avidity. 
Soon  after,  I  fell  into  the  most  delightful  state  of  drowsi- 
ness. My  dreams  were  gorgeous.  I  think  I  must  have 
slept  two  whole  days,  and  now  I  understand  it  all.  That 
punch  was  drugged.  When  I  did  awake,  I  well  remem- 
ber how  my  head  throbbed.  Feeling  better  after  taking 
a  bath,  I  dressed  myself  with  great  care,  and  walked  over 
to  Doctor  Glencoe's,  intending  to  see  Mrs.  Glencoe,  and  I 
meant,  if  I  could  gain  her  consent,  to  consummate  a  speedy 
and  private  marriage.  I  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  ser- 
vant, who  handed  me  a  note. 

"  Doctor  Glencoe  begs  to  be  excused  for  declining  the 
honor  intended  his  family  this  morning  by  Master  Mur- 
ray. The  present  calamitous  situation  of  the  household 
can  only  be  ascribed  to  his  fool-hardy  pursuit  of  a  child 
who  does  not  know  her  own  mind,  and  who,  before  two 
weeks  more,  will  be  as  much  in  love  with  her  cousin  John, 
or  somebody  else,  as  she  affected  to  be  with  her  cousin 


396 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


Conrad.  Doctor  Glencoe  hopes  that  Master  Murray  will 
be  equally  willing  now,  with  every  member  of  this  fam- 
ily, to  dissolve  all  connection,  which  is  only  productive 
of  annoyance  and  misery.  Kespectfully, 

■ 

I  returned  to  my  room,  rang  the  bell  violently.  James 
came,  and  stood  at  the  door  twirling  his  thumbs. 

"  Tell  me,  James,  what  has  been  transpiring  in  this 
house  while  I  have  been  lying  asleep  ?  and  what  is  the 
matter  over  the  way  ?  " 

"  JSTothing  'tall  aint  bin  transpiring  here,  sir,  but  every- 
thing is  the  matter  over  thar.  Tivvy  says  poor  Mrs. 
Glencoe  is  'bout  to  die,  and  little  Miss  Pet,  or  Miss  Anna 
as  you  calls  her,  is  gone  away  in  a  carriage  with  Mr.  John 
Glencoe ;  they  do  so  to  get  married  or  something  or 
nother." 

I  hope  God  will  forgive  me  !  but,  without  having  the 
least  idea  of  what  I  was  doing,  I  knocked  that  stout  negro 
boy  down,  crying  out,  "  I  suffer  no  one  to  slander  my  wife." 

In  an  instant  I  was  by  his  side  on  my  knees,  wiping 
the  blood  from  his  nose  with  my  handkerchief.  I  also 
washed  his  face  in  my  own  basin  ;  took  him  up  in  my 
arms  and  laid  him  on  the  sofa  ;  then  gave  him  a  little 
brandy  and  water.  After  a  while  he  recovered,  and  I 
then  learned  with  horror  the  preceding  facts ;  but  I  did 
not  then  hear,  and  I  do  not  think  the  boy  knew,  that 
Marianna  had  been  taken  to  school. 

"Oh!"  said  Minny,  taking  his  hand,  "ye  hae  been  as 
fierce  in  your  time,  as  ony  Hielander  —  a  sort  o'  Eob  Eoy ; 
but  go  on  "  

The  manuscript  is  continued,  while  Minny  sits  by  — 

My  cousin  John  is  the  last  one  to  bid  me  adieu.  When 
he  imprints  that  unwelcome  kiss  on  my  lips,  he  cries  out, 
"  Why,  Doctor,  my  cousin  is  burning  up  with  fever  !  She 
is  ill !  not  able  to  travel." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  397 

"Oh  yes!"  sighed  I,  "I  am  ill — sick  almost  unto 
death  (bursting  into  tears),  and  no  one  pities  me.  I  shall 
die,  die  alone  among  strangers,  and  there  will  be  none 
near  to  receive  my  parting  words  to  my  mother  —  and  to 
tell  him  that  —  that"  

I  was  not  allowed  to  finish  the  sentence.  I  felt  myself 
caught  up  and  placed  in  the  carriage,  which  drove  off.  I 
also  thought  or  dreamed  that  I  lay  in  his  arms.  I  closed 
my  eyes,  and  yielded  myself  up  to  that  almost  crushing 
embrace  —  I  knew,  nor  felt,  nor  cared  for  anything  more. 
I  presume  I  slept ;  yes,  slept  in  peace,  like  an  infant  (as 
I  believed),  on  that  adored  bosom.  I  was  very  languid, 
and  had  been  so  soothed  by  the  gentle  caresses  which 
succeeded  to  the  first  raptures,  that  I  felt  no  desire  ever  to 
be  aroused  from  the  delicious  repose.  The  carriage  still 
drove  on  with  great  velocity :  and  I  still  dreamed  on  in 
blissful  ignorance. 

Presently  the  spell  was  broken  by  the  vibration  of  a 
strange  voice.  I  started  up  in  amazement,  and  cried  out 
wildly,  "  What !  How  is  this?  You  here?  I  thought, 
Oh  !  I  thought  it  was  —  I  thought  it  was  !  Oh,  I  am  dis- 
tracted !  " 

I  attempted  to  open  the  door ;  failing  in  this,  I  screamed 
to  the  driver.  He  drove  on  just  as  before.  I  then 
attempted  to  make  my  escape  through  the  window  of 
the  flying  vehicle. 

All  this  time  the  gentleman  sat  quite  still,  perfectly  so; 
all  to  the  twitching  of  that  wonderful  upper  lip.  Now 
he  lays  his  hand  on  my  arm,  and,  looking  curiously  into 
my  face,  says,  "  Marianna,  I  agree  with  you  ;  I  do  believe 
that  you  are  distracted,  or  soon  will  be.  Throwing  your- 
self from  that  window  will  not  be  so  pleasant ;  but  it  will 
be  instant  death,  if  you  desire  that.  What  is  the  matter? 
Why  do  you  act  thus  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  tell  me,  then,  why  you  are  here  ?  Where  are  you 


398 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


taking  me?  For  what  purpose  are  you  hurrying  me  off 
thus?" 

"  I  am  not  hurrying  you  off,  child.  It  is  your  father's 
carriage-driver  who  is  driving  us  both  off;  but  with  no 
evil  intent,  I  think.  I  am  here  only  to  render  you 
assistance,  and  to  comfort  you  if  possible." 

"Where  are  we  going,  then?"  said  I,  weeping. 

"Do  you  not  know,  my  cousin  ?  Did  your  father  not 
tell  you?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  do  not  know^,  unless  it  be  to  some  dreadful 
dungeon." 

"Strange!  most  strange!  There  is  something  wrong 
beneath  all  this  mystery  !  He  surely  did  tell  you  why 
you  wrere  leaving  home  ?" 

"  I  have  told  you,  cousin  John,  that  he  did  not." 

"  Well,  you  are  on  your  way  to  the  celebrated  boarding- 
school  at  ,  about  two  hundred  miles  distant.  When 

I  saw  you  look  so  ill  as  I  bade  you  adieu,  and  seemed  so 
heart-broken,  and  found  my  cold,  inflexible  uncle  was 
about  to  send  his  only  child  away  under  the  protection 
of  a  servant  only,  my  nature  revolted  at  such  inhuman 
treatment.  So  without  a  moment's  reflection,  I  jumped 
into  the  carriage,  and  received  your  fainting  form  into 
my  arms.  For  some  time  I  thought  you  wTere  dead;  but 
that  little  black  imp,  who  sits  there  grinning  at  us,  gave 
me  the  sal  volatile  which  revived  you.  Yet  you  did  not 
open  your  eyes,  or  seem  disposed  to  rise  from  your 
recumbent  attitude.  And  I'm  sure  I  would  be  the  last 
man  in  the  world  to  remind  you  to  do  so." 

My  cousin  John  had  never  yet  spoken  one  word  of  his 
passion  to  me.  It  was  implied  only  by  his  looks  of 
admiration,  and  his  glowing  commendations  of  all  I  did 
and  said.  Neither  had  he  obtruded  himself  much  of  late. 
Still,  I  could  not  choose  but  feel  a  secret  recoil,  wmenever 
he  came  near  me.    But  I  was  also  one  of  the  most  grateful 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  399 

of  all  God's  creatures.  Any  kindness  —  the  least  drop 
of  sympathy  —  called  forth  grateful  tears.  And  now,  I 
sat  there  weeping,  with  very  softened  feelings  toward  Mr. 
Glencoe. 

"  God  knows,  cousin  John,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you;  but  are  you  right  sure  that  this  was  your  only 
motive?  "  said  I,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  as  I  beheld 
his  excited  and  inflamed  countenance. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  little  coz." 

"  Then  why  did  you  hold  me  in  such  an  energetic 
embrace?  " 

"  Now,  as  if  any  man  could  help  it,  much  less  one  who 
loves  you  as  I  do.  It  must  be  a  being  endowed  with 
superhuman  strength,  to  resist  such  charms;  else  apa- 
thetic." 

I  moved  off  to  the  corner  of  the  carriage.  The  little 
maid  on  the  front  seat,  giggled  merrily. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Tempy  ? "  said  he.  "  I 
tell  you  it  is  no  laughing  matter  to  be  scorned  in  this 
way,  when  I  only  meant  to  take  care  of,  and  console  my 
sweet  little  cousin." 

"  Seeing  him  look  as  I  thought,  mortified,  and  as  he 
did  not  approach,  my  conscience  smote  me,  and  I  said, 
with  feeling,  "  Dear  cousin  John,  forgive  me.  I  am 
more  than  half  crazy  with  trouble,  and  quite  a  fool."  I 
offered  my  hand,  which  he  took,  and  drawing  off  the 
glove,  kissed  it ;  then  pressing  it  tenderly  to  his  bosom, 
said,  "  Fear  not,  little  one !  I  would  watch  over,  and 
guard  the  honor  of  this  hand  with  my  life ;  an  you 
would  let  me." 

Nothing  more  of  consequence  occurred  on  the  way. 
The  name  of  my  lover  was  not  mentioned  between  us.  I 
think,  perhaps,  he  had  never  heard  of  my  attachment  to 
my  cousin.  I  presume  the  devisers  of  that  cruel  plot  had 
studiously  kept  it  a  secret  from  him.  After  remaining  a 
day  at  the  school,  and  during  that  time  saying  everything 


400 


T  H E    NIG  H T    W  ATCH. 


to  comfort  and  cheer  me,  which  oftentimes  produced  just 
the  opposite  effect,  he  took  an  affectionate  leave. 

I  then  entered  on  the  duties  of  the  scholastic  course, 
with  a  leaden  heart.  Yet  I  did  imbibe  instruction,  though 
pretty  much  as  a  sponge.  I  was  never  behind  my  classes, 
oftentimes  foremost.  I  received  many  letters  from  home. 
My  cousin  Amanda  wrote  for  the  whole  family.  She 
gave  me  the  news  of  the  domestic,  as  well  as  the  social 
circle. 

Once  when  she  had  gotten  through  the  household 
details,  after  telling  me  that  on  this  occasion  she  was  my 
mother's  deputy  in  writing,  and  that  she  was  better,  but 
still  feeble,  and  all  that:  she  went  on  to  say,  'Mrs.  Mur- 
ray sends  her  love  to  you.  Your  cousin  Conrad  also  sends 
his  respects.  Soon  after  you  left,  he  was  seized  with  the 
most  unaccountable  love  of  books:  he  lived  in  the  library, 
and  only  saw  his  mother  and  his  preceptor.  But  you  know, 
dear  child,  that  such  moods  do  not  last  long  in  youth. 
He  is  now  quite  gay;  comes  over  every  evening  to  hear 
me  sing  some  of  your  favorite  songs,  which  do  not  make 
him  so  sad  as  one  would  think.  He  oftentimes  thinks  of 
your  great  simplicity,  and  almost  infantile  playfulness  of 
disposition.  In  short,  dear  little  Coz,  he  seems  to  feel 
quite  an  interest  and  an  affection  for  you,  even  as  an  elder 
brother  or  a  father.  It  is  really  amusing  to  hear  him 
speak  of  his  early  associations  with  the  little  Marianna ; 
one  would  think  it  had  been  twenty  years  ago.  My 
brother  chides  him  sometimes,  for  still  seeming  to  view 
you  as  a  child,  when  he  thinks  you  a  most  desirable  and 
charming  young  woman.    God  bless  you. 

Amanda  G  . 

u  Merciful  God,"  exclaimed  Murray,  taking  Minny's 
hand.  "  O  my  dear  little  woman  !  where  can  I  expect 
to  find  truth  and  honesty  after  this  ?  I  took  that  woman 
to  be  the  incarnation  of  both.    I  almost  fear  to  proceed," 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  401 

"  Gae  on,  gae  on,  and  let  us  get  to  the  eend  o't,"  said 
Minny. 

The  manuscript  proceeds  :  "  Six  months  passed,  and  still 
she  wrote  in  the  same  strain.  Then  Cousin  John  wrote; 
but  his  was  a  manly,  affectionate  effusion.  He  spoke  of 
my  cousin  Conrad  in  terms  of  cordial  praise ;  regretted 
to  tell  me,  that  he  thought  him  delicate.  In  fact,  that 
both  he  and  his  mother  wTere  in  poor  health,  and  that  Dr. 
Glencoe  had  ordered  a  sea-voyage.  He  began  now  to 
declare  his  feelings,  but  with  great  delicacy. 

I  had  never  received  a  word  from  under  the  hand  of 
my  cousin  Conrad.  Sometimes  a  message  through  Miss 
Glencoe,  wThich  I  always  felt  to  be  an  insult.  In  truth, 
every  word  I  had  heard  was  calculated  to  wound  me. 

"Mrs.  Brown,"  said  Murray,  "I  wrote  every  week,  but 
never  received  but  one  reply ;  which  wras  brief  and  cut- 
ting.   It  ran  thus  : 

Dear  Cousin — Your  letters,  truly,  are  very  fine ;  but  I 
have  no  time,  therefore  no  relish,  for  such  things. 

Yours,  respectfully,  Anna  Glencoe. 

Ah  !  no  one  can  comprehend  my  sufferings  !  " 

"  Eead  on,"  said  Minny,  "else  the  grey  dawn  will  find 
us  here."    He  obeys. 

A  year  had  passed  away,  and  the  vacation  occurring,  I 
was  permitted  to  return  home.  Cousin  John  came  for 
me.  Nothing  of  consequence  transpired  by  the  way.  We 
traveled  by  railroad  and  steamboat — therefore  were  soon 
at  home.  Once  more  I  was  folded  in  the  arms  of  my  dear 
mother.  We  were  never  left  one  moment  alone.  I  was*; 
not  permitted  to  speak  a  word  to  my  nurse.  No  one  ever 
mentioned  Conrad's  name.  I  waited  two  whole  days  for 
some  one  to  speak  of  him.  I  hoped  that  I  might  per- 
chance meet  him. 
34 


402 


T  H  E     N  1  (i  H  T     W  A  T  C  II 


On  the  third  day,  I  felt  I  could  endure  it  no  longer, 
and  creeping  up  softly  to  my  mother,  I  leaned  down  and 
whispered  to  her,  "  Mamma,  why  does  not  my  cousin 
Conrad  come  to  see  me?" 

Oh,  what  a  wild,  frightened  look  she  cast  round  the 
room.  u  Hush  !  Hush,  child  !  They  will  tear  you  from 
me,  again.  Do  not,  if  you  love  your  mother  and  pity  her 
condition,  pronounce  that  name  in  this  house  ever,  any 
more.    O  God  !  They  have  made  it  one  of  terror  to  me." 

"When  did  you  see  him?"  said  I. 

"  Oh  !  hush  !  never,  never,  since  you  left.  He  does  not 
care  for  us  now." 

My  father  frowned,  and  said  angrily,  "  Marianna,  did 
you  come  home  only  to  excite  and  distress  your  mother? 
Are  you  not  satisfied  with  your  work  of  destruction 
before  you  left?  "We  could  scarcely  keep  life  in  her  for 
many  weeks,  and  now  you  are  trying  to  do  your  work 
over  again."  I  began  to  weep.  My  mother  looked  like  a 
timid,  brow-beaten  child,  who  was  momentarily  expecting 
punishment. 

Miss  Glencoe  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  leading  me  into 
the  parlor,  bestowed  many  tender  caresses  on  me,  uttered 
many  protestations,  and  shed  many  tears  ;  then,  in  a  low, 
soft  voice,  said,  "  My  dear,  you  must  not  pronounce  Conrad 
Murray's  name  in  the  presence  of  your  father.  His  con- 
duct has  been  most  strange,  and  his  motives  past  finding 
out.  He  has  not  been  to  see  your  poor  mother  during 
your  whole  absence.  He  and  my  uncle  do  not  speak,  and 
rumor  says  he  is  addressing  a  very  wealthy  lady." 

I  do  not  know  wherefore,  but  the  impulse  came  on 
me  to  look  her  keenly  in  the  eyes.  Well !  this  smart 
and  brave  lady,  in  all  other  things,  quailed  beneath  my 
earnest  gaze.  I  turned  away,  and  shook  my  head  mourn- 
fully. 

She  soon  rallied  and  continued  :  "  As  soon  as  he  learned 
that  you  were  expected  home,  he  immediately  left." 


T  HE    N  I  G  H  T    W  A  TCH. 


403 


u  And  is  he  not  here  now  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  ISTo  ;  he  went  away  the  very  day  my  brother  started 
for  you.  This  is  most  unaccountable.  I  feel  indignant 
at  him,  and  most  sincerely  compassionate  you,  and  feel 
vexed  at  the  same  time.  O  that  I  could  infuse  some  of 
the  Glencoe  pride'into  you!  Poor  little  lamb!  as  your 
mother  calls  you,  you  inherit  all  her  softness  and  beauty, 
with  her  weakness.  You  must  tear  this  idol  from  your 
heart,  my  love.  Drag  it  forth  ;  believe  me,  it  is  unworthy 
of  such  a  place.  Such  genuine,  disinterested  devotion, 
is  altogether  misplaced.  Just  as  well  lavish  it  on  the 
dumb  idols  of  the  heathen,  for  all  the  return  you  wTill 
ever  get." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  can  go  on  with  these  dreadful  details. 
This  unsuspected  revelation  of  perfidy  makes  me  sick  at 
heart,"  said  Murray.  "  I  went  to  that  boarding  school 
three  times  during  that  year,  and  each  time  I  was  turned 
away  as  if  by  the  express  order  of  Marianna. 

"  The  day  she  left  with  Mr.  John  Glencoe,  I  arrived,  one 
hour  after  they  had  departed,  and  was  told  by  the  super- 
intendent, in  fact,  I  saw  the  letter  from  her  father,  which 
was :  "  Dear  Sir, — I  wish  you  to  entrust  my  daughter  to 
the  care  of  Mr.  Glencoe.  This,  you  will  see,  is  no  infrac- 
tion of  the  rules  of  propriety,  as  she  will  be  married  to 
that  gentleman  at  the  end  of  next  year."  I  returned  from 
that  place  a  changed  man.  All  things  require  to  be  cared 
for ;  every  living  thing  needs  encouragement,  and  so  does 
the  heart  of  man,  let  him  be  ever  so  self-sustaining.  " 

I  was  quite  ready  (continued  the  Journal),  at  the  end 
of  the  month,  to  return  to  my  prison  house.  I  felt  I  had 
nothing  more  to  do  in  the  world.  And  if  I  could  not  die, 
I  wished  to  be  buried  alive.  The  school  was  a  Eoman 
Catholic  institution.    I  wished  now  to  become  a  nun,  and 


404  THE     NIGHT     W  A  T  0  H  . 

I  should  have  taken  the  vows  at  once,  but  the  superior 
of  the  neighboring  convent  discouraged  it. 

After  remaining  a  whole  month  without  hearing  from 
home,  I  at  last  received  a  short  letter  from  cousin 
Amanda  : 

"  Dear  little  coz  —  I  have  only  time  to  say  to  you 
that  your  mother  is  no  worse.  I  may  say,  rather  better. 
Your  father  is  also  well.  They  send  their  regards  to  you. 
You  must  excuse  me  now,  I  am  called  to  the  drawing- 
room  to  see  him  1  mean,  a  gentleman  has  called  to 

spend  the  evening  with  me.  Well,  your  cousin  Conrad 
returned  soon  after  you  left  us.  He  had  passed  the  inter- 
val in  New  Orleans,  and  came  back  with  renovated  health 
and  spirits.  He  said  he  ivould  have  returned  sooner,  but  he 
stopped  by  the  way  until  you  should  have  left.  Not  that  he 
dislikes  you,  my  love,  but  he  thinks,  and  very  justly,  too, 
that  it  wTould  be  embarrassing  to  both,  especially  to  you. 
Mrs.  Murray  is  ill  ;  she  has  had  an  attack  of  paralysis,  and 
is  so  changed  that  you  would  not  know  her.  They  speak 
of  setting  out  soon  on  their  tour.    God  bless  you. 

"  Amanda." 

Then  she  wrote  again,  and  mentioned  that  my  cousin's 
health  was  feeble,  and  that  he  and  his  mother  were  pre- 
paring to  leave  home  for  an  indefinite  time,  perhaps  for- 
ever ;  that  they  had  sold  out  their  possessions  in  the  city 
of  ,  and  that  he  would  be  married  ere  long,  etc. 

I  determined  to  hazard  one  letter,  let  him  think  of  it 
as  he  pleased  ;  let  him  blame  or  even  hate,  so  that  he 
did  not  despise  me,  I  cared  not.  After  many  fruitless 
attempts,  much  waste  of  paper  and  time,  much  sighing 
and  weeping,  I  succeeded  at  last  in  producing  the  follow- 
ing incoherent  lines  : 

"  Dear  Cousin  —  I  care  not  now  what  you  think,  much 


THE     NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


405 


less  do  I  value  the  opinion  of  the  world.  You  may,  if 
you  please,  smile  disdainfully  at  this  unmaidenly  conduct. 
I  know  that  society  would  frown  on  it,  and  I  feel  myself  that 
it  is  indelicate,  after  so  many  slights,  and  such  total  neg- 
lect of  me.  The  world  may  point  scornfully  at  the  woman 
who  would  under  any  circumstances  commence  a  corres- 
pondence with  an  estranged  lover.  But  what  care  I  for 
all  this  now  ?  I  will  tell  you,  while  I  have  the  power  to 
do  so,  ere  I  shall  be  driven  to  some  act  of  desperation. 
.  .  .  .  I  love  you  still.  Yes,  even  now,  and  with  the 
same  ardor  as  when  my  mother  gave  me  to  you,  and  when 
you  swore  so  solemnly  to  love  and  cherish  me  to  the  end 
of  life.  But  you  have  changed.  She  tells  me,  my  clever 
cousin  Amanda  tells  me  that  you  are  to  be  married  soon. 
.  - .  .  .  Well,  you  could  not  help  it,  I  suppose.  Some 
persons  are  constitutionally  fickle.  I  am  not ;  Oh  no  !  just 
the  reverse.  Therefore,  I  am  true  to  you,  and  shall 
remain  so  through  time,  and  maybe  through  eternity. 
She  says  the  lady  is  wealthy ;  and  I  infer  from  what  she 
writes,  that  this  is  the  allurement.  Well,  poor,  dear 
cousin  !  I  deplore  the  hard  destiny  which  drives  you  to 
the  necessity  of  sacrificing  your  affections  to  your  for- 
tunes. You  are  not  married  yet,  and  I  can  bat  love  you 
with  that  same  wild,  soul- absorbing  enthusiasm.  When 
another  has  taken  that  place  which  should  have  been 
mine,  and  it  gets  to  be  a  sin,  then  I  will  not  speak  of  it. 
Still,  I  shall  remain  true  to  you.  Your  image  is  enshrined 
forevermore  in  my  heart.     I  do  not  blush  to  tell  you 

this.    I  am  proud  to  avow  the  truth  I  will 

not  ask  you  to  write  ;  I  presume  yon  would  not  like  to  do 
so,  on  '  my  account  more  especially.1  I  thank  you  for  your 
considerate  mindfulness  of  my  feelings  heretofore.  O 
God!  how  can  I  say  farewell  ?  And  now  a  long  and  final 
adieu.  Anna." 

"  Oh,  had  I  but  received  this  letter  !  "  said  Murray,  u  my 


406 


T  H  E     N  I  G  H  T    W  ATC  H 


happiness  had  not  been  wrecked,  as  now.  I  wrote  to  that 
dear  child  so  often,  and  grieved  over  her  apparent  cold- 
ness, so  deeply  lamented  her  estrangement!  I  only 
received  those  two  lines.    But  what  next?" 

I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  a  response  to  my  letter.  It 
ran  thus,  and  it  was  in  his  handwriting.  My  heart  could 
attest  to  it  : 

"Dear Mamanna :  I  am  astonished  and  mortified.  Why 
do  you  act  thus  ?  Why  write  thus  ?  Why  indulge  this 
strain  of  pathos  ?  Surely,  your  own  good  sense  ought  to 
teach  you  that  such  things  between  us  now,  are  entirely 
out  of  place  and  highly  improper.  Rumor  says,  that  you 
are  to  be  married  to  your  cousin  John.  I  believe  her 
ladyship  this  time,  though  generally  her  thousand  tongues 
are  busy  in  propagating  falsehood.  But  this  one  time  I 
think  she  speaks  truly.  At  least,  I  hope  so  ;  else  the  close 
intimacy,  the  affectionate  caressing  on  the  highway  —  in 
carriages,  with  unlowered  blinds  —  would  be  considered 
rather  an  unseemly  exhibition. 

"  I  presume  you  have  not  forgotten  the  time  when  you 
were  so  benevolent  as  to  exalt  me  to  the  third  heavens 
over  night,  and  the  next  day  throw  yourself  into  the  arms 
of  another  lover-cousin — wrapping  his  soul,  no  doubt,  in 
elysium.  For  you  can  do  such  things,  little  coz.  Your 
preternatural  beauty,  and  that  exquisitely  betwitching 
simplicity,  that  child-like  sportiveness  of  manner,  are 
enough  to  turn  a  stronger  head  than  mine  —  or  his,  I  pre- 
sume, when  near  you.  When  we  are  both  married,  and 
well  married,  as  rej^ort  says  we  shall  be ;  we  may  then 
meet  and  laugh  over  these  details  and  dates  in  young 
love's  calendar.    God  bless  you,  cousin  Anna. 

«  C.  C.  Murray. 

"  P.  S.  My  mother's  health  is  wretched.  I  leave  in  a 
week  for  Europe." 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  407 

When  I  had  finished  reading  this  letter,  a  wild  dizziness 
seized  upon  me ;  then  a  numbness,  which  ended  in  an 
attack  of  catalepsy.  I  could  neither  speak,  move,  nor 
understand.  I  could  see  and  hear,  but  all  feeling  had 
gone.  Every  mental  faculty  wras  suspended,  and  I  sat 
there  holding  the  letter  before  my  eyes.  I  had  lost  all 
computation  of  time. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  maid  came  into  the  room, 
•she  found  me  sitting  there,  with  my  stony  eyes  fixed  on 
the  paper  as  if  still  reading.  I  was  very  pale,  and  quite 
cold;  the  girl  thought  I  was  dead;  she  shrieked  out  in 
affright,  which  brought  the  physician,  the  superintendent, 
and  his  wife  to  the  room.  Very  prompt  and  efficient 
means  were  used.  I  soon  revived,  and  was  restored  in  a 
week  to  my  wonted  health. 


408 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE    JOURNAL  —  A    STUNNING  ANNOUNCEMENT, 

"  Slowly  folding,  how  she  lingered, 
O'er  the  words  their  hands  had  traced, 
Though  the  plashing  drops  had  fallen, 
And  the  faint  lines  half  effaced/' 

Time  wore  on  in  the  same  tread -mill  way  as  ever.  I  did 
not  hear  from  home  for  a  long  time.  I  had  but  one  feel- 
ing and  one  interest  left;  that  was  to  know  whether  my 
mother  lived,  and  to  see  her  once  more,  I  went  through 
my  tasks  and  duties  mechanically.  I  never  failed  in  a 
lesson  ;  I  never  committed  a  fault  worthy  of  reprehension, 
and  on  the  other  hand,  I  never  performed  an  act  deserv- 
ing commendation.  It  was  thus  I  remained  a  sort  of  link 
between  animate  and  inanimate  nature.  I  neither  loved 
nor  hated,  felt  neither  joy  nor  sorrow,  pleasure  nor  pain. 
I  had  no  aspirations  —  no  expectations,  no  hopes. 

One  day  my  maid  brought  me  a  number  of  letters.  I 
laid  them  listlessly  down  by  my  side.  She  handed  me 
one  ;  I  opened  it,  looked  at  the  date ;  it  was  old ;  the  sig- 
nature—  John  Glencoe:  I  laid  it  down.  She  gave  me 
another;  it  was  also  from  Mr.  Glencoe.  1  laid  that  down. 
The  next  was  in  a  neat,  lady-like  hand.  I  opened  it ;  the 
signature  was  a  strange  one  —  Carolyn  somebody  —  I  did 
not  wait  to  see.    It  commenced  in  this  way  : 

"Dear  Young  Lady:  —  I  am  sitting  by  your  dear 
mother's  bedside,  and  writing  as  she  dictates.  She  is 
feeble,  but  better.  '  Yes,  darling  child,  I  am,  indeed,  bet- 
ter; have  been  gradually  improving  ever  since  Miss 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


409 


Amanda  Glencoe  left.  I  can  not  tell  why,  but  I  feel  a 
great  relief  in  that  young  lady's  absence.  Somehow  her 
presence  hung  like  an  incubus  on  me,  and  my  spirit  was 
fettered.  While  she  was  here  I  seemed  to  lose  my  free 
agency,  and  all  volition.  She  controled  me  as  if  I  had 
been  a  little  child,  or  an  animal.  Mrs.  Murray  and  her 
son  were  to  take  a  sea  voyage.  Miss  Glencoe  did  not 
intimate  a  word  of  her  intention  to  accompany  them 
abroad ;  but  on  the  morning  of  their  departure,  she  came 
into  my  room,  attired  for  traveling.  After  shedding  a 
great  many  tears  (which  she  could  call  up  at  any  moment), 
she  kissed  me,  and  with  many  regrets,  informed  me  that 
she  would  be  absent  for  several  years.  She  then  tripped 
from  the  room.  Presently  she  returned,  and  begged  me 
to  send  her  warmest  regard  to  you,  and  to  tell  you  that 
your  cousin  Conrad  would  be  married  immediately  after 
his  arrival  at  London. 

"  '  I  trust,  dear  child,  that  you  will  forgive  your  poor, 
deluded  mother,  for  this  grand  mistake  she  made  in  try- 
ing to  shape  your  destiny.  I  am  firmly  convinced  now 
that  it  was  all  wrong.  Better,  far  better,  to  take  the 
world  as  it  comes ;  making  the  best  of  it,  endeavoring  to 
be  prepared  to  meet  whatever  fate  may  develop  itself. 
There  is  a  way  to  do  this,  child.  The  dear  creature  who 
sits  by  me  now,  has  told  me  of  it.  It  is  revealed  in  the 
good  book ;  but,  heretofore,  with  those  great  monstrous 
scales  on  my  eyes,  I  could  not  discern  the  truth.  Your 
grandmother  Glencoe  will  be  here  next  week.  Carolyn 
says,  she  is  the  "  salt  of  the  earth."  I  hope  she  may  prove 
so.  Alas  !  (God  forgive  me  for  saying  it),  I  have  never 
seen  a  good  Glencoe,  save  yourself ;  unless  your  cousin 
John  is  one. 

"  'Write  to  me  now,  darling.    I  never  received  a  letter, 
note,  or  message  from  any  one  —  not  even  yourself — 
while  Miss  Glencoe  was  in  the  house.    Did  it  never  strike 
35 


410 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


you,  that  she  and  Mrs.  Murray  were  of  the  same  calibre  ? 
God  bless  and  save  my  child. 

"'Myra  Glencoe.' 

"  'P.  S.  I  trust  I  have  not  done  Miss  Glencoe  injustice. 
Were  I  examined  in  a  court  of  justice,  and  her  life  and 
my  own  at  stake,  I  could  not  shape  a  reason  into  words, 
why  I  do  not  love  my  "dear  niece,"  as  she  calls  herself. 
I  can  not  point  out  one  single  positive  wrong  she  has 
ever  done  my  family.  Yet  I  dread  her,  stand  in  aw^e  of 
her,  and  can  not  love  her. 

u  1  Your  Mother.'  " 

The  next  is  from  cousin  John,  and  of  recent  date.  I 
glanced  over  it.  After  chiding  me  for  coldness,  and 
scolding  me  for  not  writing,  and  entreating  me  to  do  so, 
and  then  reiterating  his  admiration,  and  unchanging 
devotion,  all  interlarded  with  those  sweet  words,  which 
are  so  pretty,  as  wTell  as  acceptable  to  ears  attuned  by  the 
Blind  Boy  to  listen,  he  went  on  to  state  that  he  would 
sail  in  half  an  hour  for  the  port  of  London.  The  object 
of  this  sudden  visit  to  England,  was  to  witness  the  nup- 
tials of  his  sister.  He  further  said,  that  immediately 
after  the  marriage  he  would  hasten  back  to  claim  his 
reward — the  just  recompense  of  so  much  patient  devo- 
tion. 

The  next  letter  was  from  cousin  Amanda.  I  knew  the 
handwriting,  and  laid  it  down  (I  felt  a  presentiment  of 
sorrow),  and  opened  the  last  one.  This  was  also  from 
cousin  John.  He  had,  it  seems,  been  driven  by  contrary 
winds,  half  over  the  Atlantic ;  had  been  shipwrecked  and 
saved  by  a  small  cruiser,  which  was  again  stranded  on  the 
American  coast;  consequently  the  object  of  his  voyage 
no  longer  existed.  His  sister's  marriage,  of  course,  would 
not  be  delayed  because  he  was.  He  now  expected  to 
return  home,  where  he  hoped  to  meet  me,  if  not  on  his 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


411 


arrival,  very  soon  after.  I  took  up  cousin  Amanda's  let- 
ter, and  with  a  sort  of  icy  sickness  at  the  heart,  prepared 
to  read  it. 

"  My  dear  little  Cousin  —  Would  that  I  had  time  to 
tell  you  of  the  many  wonderful  things  I  have  seen  since 
I  left  home.  We  have  been  here  in  the  metropolis  of  the 
world,  the  emporium  of  every  thing,  the  terminus  of  all 
things,  two  weeks.  At  first,  I  felt  like  an  atom,  so  small, 
so  insignificant  in  this  great  thoroughfare,  that  I  began 
to  fear  God  would  forget  to  take  cognizance  of  me.  This 
wore  off,  and  as  our  little  party  drew  closer  together  in 
our  own  sitting-room  of  this  immense  hotel  (which  num- 
bers more  inhabitants  than  many  of  our  incorporated 
towns  in  America),  I  got  to  think  the  greater  the  city, 
and  larger  the  hotel,  the  more  our  privacy,  security,  and 
freedom. 

"  I  am  very  much  engaged,  occupied,  and  absorbed  ;  as 
you  will  of  course  understand,  when  I  tell  you  I  was  mar- 
ried the  day  before  yesterday,  and  should  have  set  out  on 
our  tour  of  Europe,  to-day,  but  have  been  detained  by  the 
illness  of  Mrs.  Murray.  My  sweet  little  cousin,  I  wish 
you  could  see  my  glorious  husband,  now,  as  I  behold  him. 
Tall  and  straight  as  a  North  American  Indian  ;  dark  and 
composed  as  a  Spanish  hidalgo ;  learned  and  wise  as  an 
Athenian  ;  firm,  decisive,  and  steadfast  as  a  Scot ;  polite 
and  affable  as  a  Frenchman ;  aristocratic  as  an  English- 
man ;  and  good,  and  noble,  and  just,  and  handsome  as  an 
American.  And  think  of  it,  you  little  witch,  this  mir- 
acle of  perfection  is  the  husband  of  your  cousin 
Amanda. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  any  one  have  such  a  run  of  good 
fortune?  Was  ever  woman  so  blest?  Mine  is  a  match 
of  intense  affection.  I  loved  my  husband  from  the  first 
moment  I  laid  my  eyes  on  him,  and  I  resolved  then  to 


412  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

capture  that  prize,  cost  me  what  it  might.  I  have  suc- 
ceeded.   I  rarely  fail. 

"  I  hope  that  you  and  my  brother  are  as  well  suited  to 
each  other,  and  just  as  happy  as  we  are.  This  will  suf- 
fice for  mere  mortals.  But  the  sons  of  the  house  of  Grlen- 
coe  are  not  distinguished  among  men  as  good  husbands. 
The  daughters  make  the  fondest  wives  in  the  world,  if 
they  are  not  crossed. 

"  My  husband  would  send  his  love  to  Mrs.  John  Glen- 
coe,  if  he  knew  I  was  writing.  We  both  believe  that  my 
brother  waived  the  honor  he  promised  us,  in  favor  of 
greater  felicity  at  home.  Now,  my  dear,  let  me  whisper 
a  few  little  words  very  softly  in  your  ear.  "We  Glencoes 
are  a  jealous  people,  and  exacting.  Beware  of  giving  even 
slight  cause.  Eemember  that  c  trifles  light  as  air,'  etc. 
Eemember  Desdemona  !  Beware  of  the  familiar  friend 
of  old  ;  the  affectionate  cousin,  etc.  Mind  how  you  rouse 
the  sleeping  demon  in  that  little  man's  breast,  by  look  or 
word,  written  or  spoken.  For  your  life's  peace,  for  your 
soul's  salvation,  I  warn  you. 

"  We  are  corning  home  ;  then  I  suppose  we  shall  con- 
trast husbands.  Ah !  as  much  as  I  love  yours,  I  fear  he 
will  suffer  by  comparison.  I  can  love  your  husband,  but 
I  wTarn  you  not  to  love  mine.  Present  my  love  to  my 
uncle  and  aunt,  and  believe  me  as  ever,  yours, 

Amanda  MUKEAY." 

u  Amanda  Murray  !"  shrieked  I,  so  loudly  and  fiercely 
that  the  girls  in  the  next  room  came  running  in  to  see 
what  w-as  the  matter.  It  had  passed  off.  I  made  some 
slight  excuse,  which  was  received.  I  was  mistaken  ;  I 
had  thought  I  could  not  feel.  Yes,  I  was  mistaken.  I 
knew,  now,  that  I  had  but  one  course  to  pursue,  to  yield 
myself  to  my  fate. 

Another  half  year  rolled  by,  and  then  I  was  called 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


413 


home.  I  found  my  mother  resigned  to  all  things,  even 
unto  death.  My  grandmother  was  with  her,  who  was 
full  of  love,  and  sympathy,  and  Christian  piety.  My 
mother's  condition  was  much  ameliorated.  My  father 
seemed  greatly  improved  in  temper.  My  nurse  was  now 
suffered  to  be  with  me,  which  was  a  great  solace.  There 
was  a  student  of  my  father's  living  in  the  house,  Walter 
Jocelyn,  a  very  agreeable,  handsome  youth.  Yes,  things 
had  greatly  improved  since  I  was  last  at  home. 

When  I  retired  the  first  night,  I  said  to  Aunt  Molly, 
"  Well,  dear,  good  nurse,  I  am  so  glad  to  have  you  here. 
I  think  there  is  quite  an  improvement  in  the  domestic 
regime.  I  am  let  alone,  now,  which  is  a  great  comfort, 
you  know." 

"  Yes,  bless  God  !  that's  a  good  thing,  ef  it'll  only  hold 
out." 

"  Why,  my  father  seems  scarcely  to  know  that  I  am  in 
the  house.  I  do  not  think  be  has  spoken  a  word  to  me," 
said  I. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  honey  ;  but  just  wait  till  that  little  black- 
whiskered  man  comes  back.  He  with  the  quiverin'  upper 
lip." 

"Where  is  my  cousin  John,"  said  I.  "When  will  he 
be  here,  nurse  ?" 

"  Oh !  he'll  be  here  soon  enough;  I'll  warrant  he'll 
come,  now  that  Miss  Pet's  got  back.  Well,  honey,  there's 
worse  men  than  Mas'r  John  Glencoe,"  said  she,  settling 
herself  for  a  nap. 

"  But,  Aunt  Molly,  what  has  produced  this  change  about 
the  house?" 

"  Good  Marsters  !  Miss  Pet,  has  you  had  so  much  trou- 
ble, that  you  has  lost  all  your  smartness  a'most  ?  Why 
can't  you  see?  Bless  God!  Child,  can't  you  see?  Aint 
they  done  carry  their  pints  ?  Aint  that  woman  done  got 
her  son  married  to  the  rich  gal,  and  aint  they  got  the  for- 
tunes to  splurge  on  ?  Then  aint  they  gwine  to  marry  you 


414 


THE    NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


to  the  rich  man,  and  then  marster  will  have  part  o'  his'n, 
to  prop  up  the  falling  house  of  the  fortunes  of  Glencoe." 

"  Nurse,  do  you  think  it  was  Cousin  John  who  lay  in 
ambush  to  play  the  spy,  and  inform  on  us,  when  we  were 
in  the  conservatory,  and  then  had  me  sent  from  home  ?  " 

"  Whew  !  Wh-e-w  !  "  and  she  spun  out  the  word  into  a 
long,  shrill  whistle.  "  No,  i-n-d-e-e-d  ;  Mas'r  John  was 
not  in  that  hush  what  you  speaks  of.  No,  child,  they 
never  told  him  a  word  of  it.  They  too  smart  for  that. 
They  keep  them  things  a  perfound  secret.  I  tell  you 
agin,  Miss  Pet,  thar's  worse  folks  than  Mas'r  John.  But 
he  perfect  tiger  when  he's  raised.  Oh,  that  little  man's 
the  devil  when  his  blood's  up." 

"  Well,  who  was  the  spy,  Aunt  Molly?  " 

"  Oh,  child  !  I  so  sorry;  you  aint  a  bit  cute  now.  Who 
you  reckon  would  do  sich  thing,  but  that  same  one  what 
substract  the  letter  from  your  writing  scrutore,  and  don't 
you  know  who  that  was?  I  found  it  all  out  on  her; 
and  I  was  great  mind  to  tell  Mas'r  Conrad,  but  I  was  'fraid 
old  Mas'r  John  would  kill  me." 

The  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  my  father  told  me 
(speaking  very  mildly),  that  he  wished  to  have  an  hour's 
conversation  with  me.  I  assented.  "  Marianna,  if  you 
prefer  it,  I  will  order  the  barouche,  or  carriage,  or  the 
horses,  and  we  will  ride,"  said  he. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  it  is  unnecessary;  I  can  hear  you  here, 
or  in  the  parlor."  So  he  led  the  way  thither.  When  we 
were  seated,  he  plunged  right  into  the  subject,  as  if  afraid 
to  trust  himself  with  any  circumlocution  ?  "  You  know, 
my  daughter  (he  had  never  called  me  his  daughter  before 
in  his  life,  and  this  first  word  of  endearment  moved  me  to 
tears  to  begin  with),  that  your  Cousin  John  Glencoe  is 
very  sincerely  and  deeply  attached  to  you.  Do  you  not 
know  this?"  said  he,  smoothing  my  hair  down,  and 
toying  with  my  curls. 

"  He  has  often  told  me  so,  sir." 


T  H  E    N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


415 


"  You  believe  him,  I  hope,  Marianna  ?  Do  you  not  ?  " 
t£Yes,  sir.    I  have  had  ample  proofs  of  it.    I  do  not 

doubt"  

"  Then  you  return  it,  of  course,  my  child?  " 
u  No,  sir,"  said  I,  looking  him  full  in  the  face. 
"  Why  not?"  rejoined  he. 
"  Because  I  can  not,  sir." 

"  Why  so  ?  Why  can  not  you  give  your  little,  foolish, 
silly  heart  in  return  for  his  capacious,  generous,  manly 
one  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  for  the  reason,  that  it  is  what  you  call  it, 
a  weak,  silly  one.  But,  father,  I  have  no  heart  to  give. 
If  you  command  it,  I  will  give  my  hand  to  my  cousin. 
But  that  will  be  all,  and  in  honesty  I  must  tell  him  so." 

"  Girl,  on  your  life  do  not  breathe  a  word  of  the  sort. 
You  know  not  the  man.  Were  you  a  thousand  times 
fairer  and  more  beautiful  than  you  are,  and  his  wife,  he 
would  strangle  you,  or  cut  your  throat  in  a  phrenzy  of 
love  or  jealous  rage"  

"  Or,"  said  I,  very  calmly,  "when  his  passion  had 
cooled,  incarcerate  me  in  a  dungeon,  or  immure  me  in  a 
madhouse." 

My  father  shuddered  visibly;  but  I  sat  unmoved. 

"Why  talk  thus,  Marianna?  Who  has  charge  of  that 
rare,  precious  little  thing,  your  heart?"  said  he,  trying 
to  smile  playfully.  u  Tell  me,  child,  for  whom  are  you 
keeping  it  ?  " 

"  Papa,  this  is  mockery !  worse  than  mockery,  cruelty, 
the  refinement  of  cruelty.  You  know  that  I  have  loved 
my  cousin  Conrad  all  the  days  of  my  life.  You  know, 
that  this  affection,  I  will  not  call  it  a  passion,  commenced 
in  childhood,  nay  from  my  very  cradle,  and  grew  with 
my  growth,  and  strengthened  with  my  strength.  You 
know,  that  I  would  have  sacrificed  friends,  relations, 
position,  place,  name,  and  fame,  for  him.  You  also  know, 
sir,  that  with  a  ruthless  hand  you  tore  me  away  from 


416  THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


him,  that  you  prevented  our  meetings  ever  afterward, 
intercepted  all  letters  and  messages ;  then  formed  a  com- 
bination with  his  mother  and  your  niece,  and  blended 
a  few  facts,  innocent  in  themselves,  with  such  a  tangled 
web  of  falsehood,  that  neither  he,  nor  I,  could  unravel  it. 
We  are  separated.  We  may  never  meet,  yet  there  are 
some  natures  which  do  not  change." 

"  Cease  !  cease  your  upbraidings  !  What  will  it  avail 
you  now  to  think  of  him  ?  He  has  deserted  you,  proved 
recreant  to  his  faith,  and  yet  would  you  cling  to  him?  " 

"  Does  the  vine  leave  the  ruined  shrine  because  it  has 
been  desecrated?  Does  it  not  rather  entwine  its  tendrils 
lovingly  about  it,  not  being  able  to  restore,  then  to  con- 
ceal its  decay  ?  " 

"  He  has  preferred  another  to  you ;  he  is  a  changed 
man,  and  heartless.  He  is  not  worthy  of  such  disinter- 
ested attachment." 

"  Grant  you ;  but  does  the  ivy  fall  away  from  the  oak, 
because  it  has  been  riven  and  blasted  by  the  thunder 
bolt  ?    Saw  you  ever  that,  my  father  ?  " 

"  This  is  all  needless  and  unavailing.  Why  pursue  such 
a  strain.  I  am  mortified  and  pained  to  see  so  little  spirit 
in  one  of  my  name.  Such  cases  have  never  occurred 
among  the  Glencoes,"  said  he,  bitterly. 

"  Spirit !  did  you  say  spirit,  sir  ?  Well,  I  have  none  ; 
you  say  truly.  It  has  been  crushed  out,  after  being 
broken  !  You  had  no  hand  in  this,  papa,  had  you  ?  Now, 
sir,  inform  me,  if  you  please,  as  to  the  object  of  this  con- 
versation ?  To  what  do  you  desire  it  should  lead  ?  I 
am  ready  to  obey  your  commands." 

"  I  have  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  John  Glencoe.  He 
writes  that  he  will  not  present  himself  here  again,  save 
as  your  accepted  lover.  That  he  has  no  desire  to  perse- 
cute you  with  his  addresses  ;  and  if  you  do  positively 
and  unequivocally  reject  him,  that  he  will  at  once  go 
abroad,  and  never  see  you,  or  cross  your  path  again." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


417 


"This  is  certainly  very  noble  and  generous  of  my 
cousin  John,"  said  I,  and  I  could  not  refrain  from  weep- 
ing. 

"  Well,  daughter,  what  shall  I  write?  " 

"  I  will  talk  to  my  mother,  sir,  and  give  you  my  answer 
afterward.  But  have  the  kindness  to  tell  me  candidly, 
why  you  are  so  anxious  for  this  union  ?  You  know  I  am 
very  young.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  married,  still  I  am  ready 
to  obey  your  commands ;  but  I  should  like  to  hear  your 
reasons." 

MI  can  not  tell  you.  Why,  what  reason  do  you  sup- 
pose I  can  have,  other  than  your  own  welfare  and 
happiness  ?  " 

u  Ah  !  you  have  never  consulted  my  happiness  ;  say  not 
that.  Whatever  your  motives  may  be,  I  am  ready  to 
obey  you  ;  but  do  not  say  that  again,  papa ;  I  will  not 
hear  it." 

"  Well!  no  matter,  go  now  and  talk  to  your  mother  and 
grandmother  ;  then  come  back  quickly,  and  tell  me  what 
to  wrrite."  And,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  kissed  me. 
I  really  do  believe,  that  the  hope  of  gaining  my  father's 
forgiveness,  for  that  first  sin  («.  e.,  that  I  was  not  born  a 
boy),  and  that  he  would  be  reconciled  to  my  poor  mother, 
and,  after  a  while,  would  get  to  love  us  both,  had  more  to 
do  with  gaining  my  consent  than  aught  else.  When  I 
had  told  them  of  the  nature  of  this  long  colloquy  in  the 
parlor,  and  that  I  had  come  to  ask  their  advice,  my 
poor  mother  wept,  and  my  grandmother  rocked  herself 
violently.  At  last  she  said,  '  Well,  Myra,  don't  kill  your- 
self crying  at  the  outset.  If  you  are  opposed  to  it,  tell 
the  child  so,  and  let  her  go  back  to  her  father. 

"  O  Clod  !  have  pity  on  me,  and  direct  me  in  this  try- 
ing emergency,"  cried  my  mother. 

"  That  is  always  a  good  prayer.  But  you  must  decide 
quickly.    I  don't  want  John  Grlencoe  to  come  storming  up 


418  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

here  like  a  hurricane  as  he  is,  when  he's  angry,"  said  my 
grandmother. 

"  What  do  you  advise,  grandma?  I  was  sent  equally  to 
you." 

"  Now,  child,  my  opinion  is  that  your  heart  should  be 
your  only  counselor.  When  a  girl  is  so  undecided  as  to 
require  advice,  you  may  be  sure  there  is  something  wrong. 
My  belief  is,  that  you  had  better  let  John  Glencoe  pass. 
There  are  more  men  and  women  than  you  two ;  besides, 
you  are  such  a  baby,  you  are  not  lit  to  take  the  head  of 
a  family." 

"  O  mother  !  you  are  ruining  everything.  You  will 
get  us  all  into  trouble.  Her  father  will  be  furious.  I 
can't  explain,  but  there  is  a  tie,  a  link  of  interest  between 
them;  some  business  matter,  which  makes  it  indispensably 
necessary  to  fasten  John  Glencoe  to  his  uncle  with  grap- 
pling irons,  as  it  were." 

"  And  this  poor  child  is  to  be  made  the  grappling  iron, 
is  she  ?  It  is  all  wrong.  I  will  never  give  my  voice  to 
such  a  bargain."  Just  then,  my  father  came  in,  and  she 
continued,  "  So,  my  son,  you  are  about  to  sell  your  child 
to  that  hot-headed  John  Glencoe,  for  value  received.  Aye ! 
is  it  so  ?  " 

My  father  turned  livid  with  rage.  She  went  on,  "  I  am 
opposed  to  this  sale." 

"  But  why,  madam?"  said  he,  biting  his  lip  to  keep 
dow^n  his  fury.  "I  do  not  think  you  understand  the 
matter." 

u  Yes,  I  understand  enough  to  know  that  she  don't  love 
him ;  and  love  is  the  only  real  safeguard  to  the  virtue  of 
such  a  child-wife  as  she  will  be." 

"  Oh  !  for  the  love  of  heaven,"  said  my  mother,  "  say 
no  more.  You  will  raise  a  fiend  here,  presently,  that  all 
your  philosophy,  reason,  and  religion  will  be  incommen- 
surate to  put  down." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


419 


My  grandmother  walked  close  up  to  my  father,  and 
looking  him  full  in  the  face,  said,  "  My  son,  I  have  one 
thing  more  to  state,  and  then  I'm  done ;  but  I'll  stick  to 
it,  and  you  must  abide  by  it.  When  that  poor  thing 
becomes  the  wife  of  that  jealous,  fierce  savage,  and  he 
begins  to  exact  and  extort,  ending  with  violence,  like  all 
of  you,  that  child  will  hate  and  then  despise  him.  She 
will  be  goaded  on  by  his  treatment  and  her  own  wretch- 
edness, to  commit  some  desperate  act.  Then  you,  at  the 
head  of  the  pack,  will  raise  the  hue  and  cry,  and  like  a 
parcel  of  blood-hounds,  you'll  hunt  her  to  death.  Let 
the  sin  then  rest  where  it  is  due,  on  your  own  shoulders  ; 
and  retribution  will  fall  where  it  is  just,  upon  your  own 
head.  As  for  myself,  I  will  stand  by  that  child,  right  or 
wrong."  And  the  dear,  good,  upright  old  lady  hobbled 
out  of  the  room. 

My  father  looked  as  ferocious  as  a  tiger  after  her;  then 
turning  to  me,  said,  u  Marianna,  what  shall  I  write  to 
your  cousin  ?  " 

"Word  the  message  as  you  choose,  sir/' said  I.  "I 
have  already  told  you  that  I  would  obey  your  mandate. 
Why  should  I  care?"  He  frowned  darkly,  and  left  the 
room. 

I  never  knew  what  he  wrote ;  but  three  days  from  that 
time,  Mr.  Glencoe  arrived.  I  met  him  without  any  emo- 
tion. On  his  part,  he  was  so  delighted  to  see  me  that  he 
overlooked  my  apathy.  He  sat  by  me  the  whole  day,  and 
if  I  broke  away  and  ran  to  my  room,  he  very  soon  crea,-  . 
ted  some  excuse  to  call  me  down  —  a  book  to  look  oyer 
with  him,  a  print  to  examine,  a  walk  or  ride,  or  perhaps 
he  wished  to  practice  with  me  some  duet  for  the  flute  and 
guitar.    He  performed  beautifully  on  several  instruments. 

On  the  third  day,  the  dreaded  subject  was  broached,  and 
he  asked  me  to  name  a  day.  I  said,  with  an  involuntary 
shudder,  that  all  days  were  alike  to  me  now,  and  then 
most  inopportunely  burst  into  tears.    He  was  holding  my 


420 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


hand  at  the  time  he  commenced  speaking ;  but  at  this 
juncture  he  coldly  laid  it  on  my  lap,  drew  himself  up,  and 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  remained  silent.  I  felt  that  his 
eyes  were  fixed  on  me,  which  only  tended  to  increase  my 
distress. 

At  last  I  became  calm.  I  raised  my  eyes  imploringly 
to  his  face,  but  in  an  instant  closed  them.  Would  to  God 
they  had  closed  forever  !  I  never  saw  so  terrific  a  coun- 
tenance. He  was  as  pale  as  death  ;  that  spasmodic  twitch- 
ing of  the  upper  lip  was  so  intense  as  to  disclose  the  teeth, 
which,  like  his  sister's,  were  very  fine,  remarkably  sharp, 
and  exceedingly  white.  "When  those  teeth  wTere  visible, 
the  mouth  gave  forth  a  decided  snarl.  His  eyes  wTere 
bloodshot. 

I  spread  my  hands  out,  holding  the  palms  toward  him, 
as  if  to  drive  him  from  me,  and  involuntarily  exclaimed, 
"O  God!  help  me.  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  sir? 
Cousin  John,  why  do  you  look  so  ?  " 

He  arose  and  walked  the  floor,  with  his  thumbs  stuck 
in  the  arm-holes  of  his  vest.  I  wratched  him  for  some  time, 
unnoticed.  Then  I  went  to  him,  and  laying  my  hand  on 
his  arm,  as  I  looked  up  at  him,  said,  "  Sir,  I  give  you 
until  to-morrow  morning  to  think  of  this.  I  have  no 
apology  to  make  ;  I  will  give  no  explanation.  If,  at  the 
end  of  that  time,  when  you  have  pondered  on  it,  and 
brooded  over  it,  you  still  desire  this  marriage,  I  will  con- 
sent in  two  days,  after,  to  fulfill  my  father's  engagement 
with  you." 

He  seemed  surprised,  I  thought;  but  beneath  that,  I 
could  see  great  satisfaction.  He  caught  my  hand,  carried 
it  to  his  lips,  and  would  for  the  first  time  have  embraced 
me.    I  drew  back. 

"  Not  so,  my  cousin.  Wait  until  you  have  reflected, 
and  made  your  decision." 

"  I  have  made  it  even  now.  I  will  take  you,  with  that 
veil  of  mystery  hanging  over  your  conduct.   Hoping  that 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  421 


you  will  yourself  raise  it,  and  that  you  will  then  reward 
my  devotion  by  loving  me.  Promise  me  this,  dear 
girl  "  

"  I  can  promise  you  nothing,  sir.  I  say  now,  and  I  will 
vow  no  more  at  the  altar.  I  will  do  my  best  to  please 
you.  When  you  have  considered  on  it,  and  after  we  have 
been  to  church,  and  done  that  which  I  hope  we  will  both 
try  to  do,  however  imperfectly,  then  meet  me  here.  Good 
evening,  sir." 

I  did  not  come  to  the  tea  table.  I  took  my  breakfast  in 
my  room.  I  saw  no  one  but  my  nurse,  who  ministered  to 
my  few  requirements.  I  felt  that  I  did  not  wish  to  look  on 
the  face  of  a  human  being  save  my  mother  and  this  good 
creature.  To  my  father's  frequent  requests,  and  then  his 
commands  to  come  to  the  parlor,  I  only  replied,  "I  am 
indisposed." 

At  eleven  o'clock,  I  descended  to  the  drawing-room, 
attired  for  church.  My  cousin  came  up,  offered  his  arm, 
and  thus  we  proceeded.  We  took  our  seats  in  my  father's 
pew,  side  by  side.  When  the  service  was  over,  we 
returned  home  without  saying  a  word. 

At  dinner  we  all  appeared  as  usual.  The  young  man 
to  whom  I  have  before  alluded,  Walter  Jocelyn,  was  there. 
Being  very  estimable  himself,  and  my  father  as  hos- 
pitable, this  youth  was  invited  to  become  a  guest  in  his 
house.  During  the  whole  of  that  morning,  he  watched 
us  closely.  I  would  never  look  up  but  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  me.  This  was  embarrassing  and  a  little  curious,  I 
thought,  seeing  that  we  were  strangers.  After  dinner  I 
took  my  seat  in  the  drawing-room,  to  await  the  gentle- 
men who  lingered  over  their  wine.    Walter  came  first. 

"Miss  Glencoe,"  said  he,  "my  acquaintance  with  you 
is  short,  but  not  so  brief  but  that  I  have  divined  your 
secret ;  have  also  seen  disclosed  the  rock  on  which  your 
domestic  peace  is  to  be  wrecked." 


422 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


"  Oh  my  friend,"  said  I  (for  I  felt  a  premonition  that 
he  was,  and  ever  would  be  my  friend),  then  you  know 
that  my  heart  is  not  in  this  marriage?  " 

"  Yes:  and  that  you  are  most  wretched.  I  foresee,  that 
few  or  none  of  your  friends  will  have  access  to  you  after 
your  marriage.  You  will  be  guarded  with  the  lynx-eye 
of  suspicion.  Now  let  me  tell  you;  I  am  ready  at  any 
moment,  in  any  way  (no  matter  whether  right  or  wrong), 
to  serve  you.  My  person,  my  purse,  my  influence,  my 
mind,  my  soul  are  subject  to  your  slightest  command.  Soon 
it  will  be  a  crime  to  tell  you  this.  Then  sink  it  deep  into 
the  cells  of  your  memory,  to  be  called  up  in  time  of  need. 
Feel  no  dread  or  distrust;  remember,  that  the  eye  of  love 
is  as  far-seeing  and  as  vigilant  as  that  of  jealousy.  Grant 
me  one  favor?"  I  bowed  assent.  "Surfer  me  to  kiss 
your  hand,  in  token  of  the  good  faith  between  us,  and 
that  I  am  understood" 

He  said  this  last  word  with  peculiar  emphasis.  I  held 
out  my  hand.  He  imprinted  a  fervent  kiss  on  it,  and 
bowing,  left. 

In  a  few  moments  my  cousin  John  entered  the  room, 
hurriedly ;  looked  curiously  about,  from  righ  t  to  left. 
"  I  thought  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  here?  " 
u  He  has  just  left,  sir,"  said  I,  coldly. 
"  Of  whom  was  he  in  pursuit?" 

"  He  did  not  say,  sir ;  but  I  supposed  he  had  called  in 
to  converse  with  me.  He  did  not  speak  of  any  one 
else." 

"  Did  he  so  ?    Then  why  did  he  leave  so  soon  ?  " 

"  I  can  not  tell ;  I  did  not  invite  him  to  remain,  and  I 
rather  think  he  knew,  or  suspected  our  appointment." 

I  felt  my  blood  boil  in  my  veins,  but  I  was  determined 
to  avoid  all  scenes.  This  appeared  to  be  satisfactory. 
When  he  found  I  did  not  evidence  either  anxiety,  curios- 
ity, or  trepidation  at  this  first  demonstration  of  the  ruling 


THE    NIGHT     WATCH.  423 

passion,  he  came  and  threw  himself  down  on  the  sofa 
by  me,  and  taking  my  hand,  looked  earnestly  into  my 
face  as  he  said  : 

"  My  love,  did  you  ever  know,  or  can  you  conceive  of 
such  affection  as  this  ?  Listen  :  I  once  knew  a  man  who 
loved  a  woman  so  fiercely,  that  he  got  to  hate  every  other 
man  who  looked  at  her,  and  in  time,  grewT  jealous  of  her 
own  father." 

I  smiled  faintly,  and  added :  "  Well,  did  such  love  make 
them  happy  ?  " 

"  Him  it  made  happy  beyond  the  power  of  description." 

"  But  the  lady,  how  it  was  with  her  ?  " 

"  Why,  as  far  as  the  chronicles  tell,  she  was  happy,  too. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  She  was  very  beautiful,  and 
exceedingly  gentle,  and  angelic  in  all  things."  With  this 
he  caught  me  in  his  arms,  and  strained  me  to  his  breast 
with  such  violence,  that  to  this  day,  I  am  in  doubt 
whether  he  did  not  intend  to  crush  me  to  death.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  I  screamed  out,  and  my  father  came  running 
into  the  room  from  the  parlor. 

"  In  the  name  of  all  the  saints!  what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Nothing,  papa,"  said  I,  laughing  and  crying  at  the 
same  time,  "  only  cousin  John  is  trying  to  kill  me 
already." 

"Fie!  fie!"  said  he,  angrily.  "  John,  I  wonder  how 
you  can  wish  to  be  bothered  with  such  a  little  fool." 

When  we  were  again  alone,  I  said,  "Sir,  I  came  here  to 
talk  seriously ;  but  I  must  say,  you  are  very  light  and 
frivolous  this  Sabbath  afternoon." 

II  Our  Sunday  ends  with  High  Mass  until  Vespers,  you 
know." 

"  Yes,"  said  I.  "  So  tell  me  to  what  decision  you  have 
come?" 

u  Now,  is  not  that  too  much  ?  How  can  you  ask  such 
a  question  ?  Have  you  not  been  answered  ?  I  can  not 
live  without  you,  Marianna.    I  must  possess  you  either 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


with,  or  without  love.  But  woe  to  the  man  who  steps 
between  us  !  Aye  !  let  him  try  it."  He  had  risen  from 
his  seat,  and  stood  before  me  —  his  hand  on  the  gold- 
hilted  dagger  which  he  constantly  wore  on  his  bosom. 
That  upper  lip,  and  those  dark,  grey  eyes,  performed 
their  functions  as  faithfully  as  ever ;  and  the  white  teeth 
gleamed  from  under  the  dark  moustache.  I  never  saw 
that  expression  on  his  face,  but  my  mind  reverted  to  the 
hapless  Desdemona,  and  my  cousin's  warning  letters. 

On  the  following  Tuesday,  as  I  had  promised,  we  were 
married.  My  mother's  ill  health,  furnished  the  excuse 
for  a  private  wedding. 


THE    N I G  H  T    W  A  T  C  11  . 


425 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE    JOURNAL  THE  RETURN. 

"  Better  confide  and  be  deceived, 

A  thousand  times,  by  treacherous  foes, 
Than  once  accuse  the  innocent, 
Or  let  suspicion  mar  repose/' 

"  In  the  human  breast  two  master-passions  can  not  co-exist." 

A  year  has  elapsed  —  time  flying,  sometimes,  so  swiftly 
that  I  did  not  even  hear  the  rustle  of  his  wings.  Then 
they  were  clogged,  and  heavy,  and  I  felt  them  trail  on  the 
ground;  taking  up  trifles — insignificant  things  —  which 
made  life  wearisome.  We  have  just  returned  from  a 
northern  tour,  and  are  now  again  at  the  old  homestead. 
My  mother's  health  has  not  improved ;  and  my  grand- 
mother has  taken  up  her  abode  in  the  house. 

My  parents  made  it  a  sine  qua  non  with  my  husband, 
that  we  should  reside  with  them;  everything  goes  on 
swimmingly.  My  father  seems  to  be  no  longer  annoyed 
by  duns,  or  pinched  by  necessity.  His  purse  is  like  the 
"  widow's  cruise," — bottomless.  Mr.  Glencoe,  no  longer 
cousin  John,  is  the  presiding,  controling,  and  supplying 
divinity  of  the  place.  My  father  loves  him;  my  mother 
looks  up  to  him ;  everybody  respects  him ;  my  grand- 
mother endures  him  because  he  is  my  husband ;  and  I, 
who  should  have  all  those  feelings  blent  into  one,  only 
fear  him  ! 

Ho  seems  to  love  me  as  fiercely  as  ever,  and  nothing 
has  yet  occurred  to  mar  our  tranquility.  I  said  we  had 
36 


426 


T  H  E    N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  C  H 


just  returned  home.  Preparations  are  making  to  cele- 
brate this  event  with  great  magnificence.  It  has  been  a 
jubilee  in  the  house  since  the  first  night  after  our  arrival. 
Friends  and  acquaintances  come  flocking  in.  Congratu- 
latory and  adulatory  speeches  are  the  most  current  coin 
in  use.  My  gentlemen  friends  say,  "  She  is  greatly  im- 
proved." My  lady  favorites  exclaim,  "  Lord  !  how  Mrs. 
Glencoe  has  grown."  My  mother  seems  full  of  gratitude 
that  I  am  not  heart-broken  and  martyr-like.  My  father 
addresses  me  as  "  My  daughter,  Mrs.  John  Glencoe,"  and 
at  last  seems  proud  of  me.  My  grandmother  rocks  herself, 
shakes  her  head,  but  says  nothing.  Nurse  says,  "  Bless 
God  !  all's  well  what  turns  out  well.  I  hope  he'll  hold 
out," 

The  invitations  are  sent  for  three  hundred  persons,  and 
the  third  day  after  this,  this  great  fete  is  to  come  off.  I 
have  had  a  splendid  dress  ordered  from  JNrew  York,  five 
hundred  dollars  will  not  cover  the  cost  of  it,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  jewels.  My  husband  has  already  expended  a 
small  fortune  on  me  ;  I  ought  to  love  him,  children  are 
generally  won  by  gauds  and  gewgaws.  Would  to  God  I 
could  become  attached  to  him.  Every  new  manifestation 
of  his  regard  makes  my  heart  sick.  I  wish  sometimes 
that  he  were  cross,  so  that  I  might  in  some  way  appease 
ray  self-accusing. 

We  are  sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  the  dress  has 
arrived.  It  is  superb  ;  I  am  charmed  with  it,  or  rather  I 
would  be,  if  I  cared  for  anything.  By  some  strange  train 
of  ideas,  without  any  association,  my  mind  is  far  away. 
I  am  thinking  how  much  joy,  and  gladness,  and  delight, 
would  be  gushing  forth  from  my  loving  heart,  if  he  were 
sitting  tii ere  instead  of  Mm.  Then  the  still  small  voice 
whispers,  ,k  Bethink  thyself,  Marianna.  Thou  art  a  wedded 
wife  !"  And  I  droop  my  head  and  weep.  On  being  asked 
wherefor  (for  my  attentive  husband  never  fails  to  inquire). 


t  ii  i<:   n  i  Q  n  'j'   w  a  t  c  H .  427 

I  reply,  "Because,  sir,  you  are  so  kind  and  generous."  He 
looks  me  keenly  in  the  face ;  but  I  have  been  obliged 
to  resort  to  subterfuges,  too  often,  to  be  embarrassed  by  a 
look. 

While  we  sat  there,  the  servant  comes  in  with  the 
letters.  There  are  several  for  Dr.  Glencoe,  and  two  or 
three  for  John  Glencoe,  junr.  One  has  a  black  seal.  He 
lays  that  aside,  and  when  he  has  read  the  others,  opens 
it.  He  becomes  deadly  pale,  but  is  silent;  then  he 
rubs  his  hand  over  his  face,  as  if  his  thoughts  strayed, 
or  he  felt  his  mind  growing  obtuse. 

After  awhile  he  handed  me  the  letter,  and  went  away. 
I  was  glad  he  did  so — had  he  witnessed  that  fierce  pa- 
roxysm, that  breaking  up  of  the  ice,  that  bursting  forth 
of  suppressed  feeling,  and  long  pent-up  emotions,  I  know 
not  what  would  have  been  the  result.  I  hastened  to  my 
room,  locked  the  door,  and  again  read  the  letter.  Mrs. 
Murray,  my  cousin  Amanda,  is  dead.  She  had  died  sud- 
denly in  giving  birth  to  a  little  daughter ;  and  they  are 
now  on  their  way  home.  Mrs.  Murray,  his  mother,  was 
still  in  bad  health;  was  much  changed,  and  longed  for 
retirement,  that  she  might  devote  herself  to  the  little 
Genevieve,  the  infant  daughter  of  my  cousin  Amanda. 

The  letter  was  from  Conrad.  He  desired  his  love  to 
his  cousin  Marianna.  I  sat  for  a  long  time  musing  over 
its  contents.  I  would  not  look  into  my  heart.  I  would 
not  suffer  myself  to  contemplate  the  present  or  the  future. 
I  wished  to  act  right,  and  I  aimed  to  do  so.  My  cousin 
wrote  in  a  manly,  dignified  tone.  His  letter  was  brief, 
cold,  and  sorrowful.  There  was  no  assumption  of  intense, 
overwhelming  grief;  no  affectation  of  fine  sentimentality. 
He  appeared  as  I  had  thought  him — all  truth  and  candor. 

There  came  a  low  tap  ;  I  got  up,  and  found  that  I  was 
scarcely  able  to  move.  I  reeled  forward,  and  when  I 
opened  the  door,  fell  forward  into  the  arms  of  ray  hus- 


428 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


band  ;  I  had  fainted.  When  I  recovered,  I  found  him  hang- 
ing tenderly  over  me. 

We  were  alone ;  my  husband  kissed  me,  and  said,  look- 
ing very  sad,  "  Dear  child  of  sensibility  !  But  we  loved 
her  so  much  !  Poor  dear  lost  sister!  Thine  was  a  bril- 
liant but  meteor-like  career  !  " 

My  father  came  in,  and  after  making  exactly  the  proper 
number  of  inquiries,  and  offering  precisely  the  suitable 
amount  of  condolence,  said,  C  I  must  send  out  your  regrets, 
and  have  this  festival  stayed,  I  presume,  John?  " 

"  If  you  please,  uncle.  "  Then  he  walked  across  the 
room,  and  stood  for  some  time  gazing  moodily  out  of  the 
window. 

A  week  more,  and  the  travelers  are  at  home.  His  apart- 
ments are  opposite  to  mine.  I  look  over,  and  see  him 
passing  to  and  fro  in  his  room.  Now  he  stands  beside  the 
window,  and  /,  like  a  guilty  thing,  conceal  myself  behind 
the  curtain  and  peep  out  covertly.  It  has  been  three 
years  since  we  met.  He  appears  from  this  view  to  be 
much  taller  and  stouter  ;  wears  heavy  black  whiskers,  but 
no  moustache  ;  looks  thoughtful  and  sad  ;  has  his  eyes  fixed 
steadfastly  on  our  house,  on  my  window. 

It  is  the  month  of  June :  the  windows  are  raised,  and, 
as  they  are  large,  I  can  see  into  his  room. 

Mr.  Glencoe  crosses  the  street,  and  rings  the  bell.  I  trem- 
ble with  excitement  at  the  thought  of  any  one  touching  Ms 
dear  hand.  O  G-od  !  forgive  me  !  I  feel  that  I  would  be 
willing  to  die,  to  be  crushed  to  death,  if  I  could  once  more 
be  clasped  to  his  bosom  !  My  husband  approaches  him  ; 
they  shake  hands.  Now,  there  seems  to  be  an  awkward 
silence;  after  which  they  seat  themselves  near  the  win- 
dow, and  enter  into  conversation.  I  find  my  heart  insti- 
tuting a  comparison  between  my  cousin  and  my  husband. 
God  help  me  !  I  can  no  longer  control  my  thoughts  !  I 
must  tear  myself  away  from  the  maddening  scene.  I 


THE     NIGHT    W  A  T  0  II  . 


429 


threw  myself  on  the  sofa ;  then  I  went  to  the  lounge  ; 
arose  from  that  and  dashed  myself  down  on  the  floor  ; 
then  got  up  and  lay  upon  the  bed,  putting  the  pillow  on 
my  face,  and  pressing  it  down  furiously,  as  if  to  shut  out 
all  remembrance.  Alas !  Externals  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  There  is  a  long  record  of  the  past  within,  adorned 
by  his  image. 

I  hear  Mr.  Glencoe  talking  below ;  I  know  that  he  will 
either  send  for  me  or  come  up.  I  bathe  my  face,  arrange 
my  hair,  make  my  toilet,  and  pass  into  my  mother's  room. 
She  and  my  grandmother  are  engaged  in  talking  with 
some  lady  neighbors ;  so  I  manage  to  escape  their  notice. 
Presently  a  servant  comes.  u  Mr.  Glencoe  says,  will  you 
do  him  the  favor  to  come  and  sit  writh  him,  madam?  " 

I  go  down  immediately,  and  find  him  looking  very 
somber.  After  sitting  together  for  some  time,  talking  on 
indifferent  subjects,  he  says  suddenly,  looking  me  full  in 
the  eyes,  u  My  love,  you  do  not  inquire  about  your  cousin 
Conrad."  In  an  instant  I  felt  the  blood  rush  to  my  face ; 
I  knew  he  marked  this  down.  "  Why  have  you  not  asked 
about  him?" 

I  stammered  out,  "  I  thought  it  would  make  you  still 
more  sad,  and  forebore  to  speak  until  you  chose  to  open 
the  subject."  This  did  not  do ;  I  saw  he  was  not  satisfied. 
All  that  day  and  the  next  he  was  silent  and  moody.  T 
would  look  up,  and  find  his  eyes  intently  fixed  on  me,  as 
if  he  thought  there  was  some  secret  which  he  expected 
to  surprise  and  read  on  my  countenance. 

Two  days  after  that,  we  were  sitting  in  the  parlor,  when 
the  street  door  bell  rang,  and  I  heard  that  voice  wiiich 
never  failed  to  thrill  my  whole  frame,  ask,  "  Is  my  cousin 
Marian na  at  home  ?  " 

u  Yes,  sir;  walk  into  the  drawing-room,"  said  the  boy, 
opening  the  door. 

On  first  catching  the  sound  of  his  voice,  I  had  sprung 
to  my  feet,  and  as  he  entered  the  door,  with  an  irrepress- 


430  THE    NIGH  T    W  ATOH, 

ible  si  out  of  gladness,  I  ruslied  into  his  arms  and  hid  my 
head  in  his  bosom.  He  strained  me  to  his  breast,  kissed 
me  passionately  on •  the  forehead,  cheeks,  lips,  over  and 
over  again  ;  then  held  me  at  arm's  length,  looking  at  me 
so  lovingly,  so  tenderly,  that  I  was  forced  to  close  my 
eyes  or  die  of  rapture.  Then  he  would  catch  me  up 
again,  and  murmur,  u  My  dear  cousin  !  My  darling  girl  ! 
My  own  one  !  "  Then  holding  me  off,  and  looking  at  me, 
would  say,  "  Oh  !  how  beautiful !  How  marvelously  beau- 
tiful !    How  exquisitely  lovely  !  " 

I  presume  all  this  passed  in  a  much  shorter  time  than 
has  taken  to  write  it.  We  took  no  note  of  his  night. 
The  world,  with  all  its  vexatious  annoyances,  had  receded 
from  my  thoughts.  I  was  only  conscious  of  a  wild,  deli- 
rious joy.  I  was  once  more  resting  on  that  idolized 
bosom.  I  felt  his  heart  beat,  I  heard  it  ;  and  my  own 
throbbed  responsively.  But  this  state  could  not  last.  I 
should  have  expired  in  ecstacy.  Ah  !  why  do  we,  poor, 
short-sighted  mortals,  evermore  drain  the  cup  to  the 
dregs,  if  it  is  not  dashed  from  the  lips? 

We  awoke,  but  it  was  too  late.  On  turning  to  sit  down, 
we  met  my  husband  face  to  face.  Conrad  had  not  seen 
him,  and  /had  forgotten  him.  There  he  stood,  with  his 
arms  folded  over  his  breast,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  his  face 
bloodless,  and  that  upper  lip  quivering,  and  jerking,  and 
snarling,  revealing  those  sharp,  white,  glistening  teeth.  I 
fell  on  the  sofa,  and  covered  my  eyes  with  my  hands,  to 
shut  out  the  appalling  spectacle. 

Conrad  approached  him,  and  said  with  stern  calmness, 
"  Sir,  I  hold  myself  accountable  to  you  for  this  scene.  I 
am  at  your  service  at  any  time." 

A  low,  hissing  laugh,  with  "  I  thank  you,  sir,"  escaped 
my  husband,  and  they  left  the  room  together. 

I  was  alone.  I  felt  bewildered,  almost  insane,  for  a  few 
moments,  frantic.  I  would  have  rushed  after  them.  I 
wished  to  flee  away,  to  hide  from  the  face  of  every  human 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


431 


being,  so  that  I  might  be  alone  with  my  thoughts.  I 
essayed  to  do  so,  but  only  had  strength  to  totter  across 
the  room,  and  fall  again  on  a  sofa.  9  Then,  fortunately, 
there  was  a  suspension  of  my  faculties  ;  I  sank  into  a 
state  of  inanity.  A  lethargic  repose  stole  over  me,  and  I 
lay  quite  still.  I  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything.  I  felt 
no  anguish,  knew  no  joy.  Hope  seemed  to  have  taken 
her  everlasting  night,  and  memory  to  have  closed  her 
avenues. 

The  servant  came  in  to  light  the  gas,  then  supper  was 
announced.  I  got  up  mechanically,  and  passing  into  the 
room,  took  my  seat  at  the  table.  My  grandmother  pre- 
sided at  the  head,  the  family  surrounded  the  board.  My 
friend  Walter  sat  opposite  to  me.  Neither  my  father  nor 
my  husband  came  in.  The  meal  passed  on*  in  silence.  I 
saw  that  young  Walter's  eyes  were  fixed  on  me  ;  I  did  not 
care.  He  addressed  some  common-place  questions  ;  I  did 
not  answer,  for  I  could  not  comprehend  his  words.  I 
gulped  down  my  tea,  then  rose  from  the  table  and  left  the 
room  as  mechanically  as  I  had  entered  it.  I  had  gone 
and  taken  my  seat  in  the  parlor. 

Walter  followed  me  thither,  sat  down  by  me,  looking 
mournfully  into  my  face.  "  Ah  !  I  knew  it ;  my  own 
heart  foreboded  this.  I  would  have  warned  you,  but  I 
had  no  opportunity.  Ah  !  how  quickly  the  poison  cor- 
rodes!" I  said  not  a  word,  but  sat  quite  still,  with  my 
eyes  closed,  and  my  arms  hanging  languidly  down, 
scarcely  breathing. 

Presently  he  took  my  hand.  I  sprang  to  my  feet. 
"  Oh !  for  the  love  of  Christ !  do  not  touch  me  !  I  am 
mad !  Oh  !  I'm  mad  !  "  and  I  rushed  to  my  room,  threw 
myself  on  the  floor,  wThere  I  remained  throughout  the 
whole  night,  without  undressing.  I  heard  the  clock  strike 
every  hour  until  day.  Oh  !  that  long,  dreary,  lonely 
night ! 


432  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

He  did  not  return.  I  could  not  tell  whether  I  was 
pleased  or  disturbed  at  it.  I  had  ceased  to  reason,  and 
no  longer  tried  to  understand  myself.  Morning  dawned, 
and  I  had  not  slept.  My  maid  came  in  and  said  my 
mother  was  inquiring  for  me.  My  father  had  not  returned, 
and  she  felt  alarmed.  I  suffered  myself  to  he  dressed,  and 
went  to  my  mother.  I  found  her  much  excited.  Seeing 
me  so  calm,  she  grew  also  tranquil.  She  said  thai  Con- 
rad and  John  Glencoe  had  left  the  house  together,  the 
latter  being  as  pale  as  a  corpse.  Soon  after,  a  messenger 
came  for  my  father  ;  since  which  time  they  had  not  been 
heard  of.  She  claimed  of  me  to  explain  the  mystery.  I 
could  not ;  I  had  no  heart  to  speak. 

Just  then  my  grandmother  came  to  the  bedside.  "  Tut, 
tut!  what  is  this  fuss  about?  Stop  all  your  crying. 
Come,  hush  it  all  up  at  once.  There's  nothing  the  mat- 
ter. You  know  not  these  Glencoes  yet  ?  By  to-morrow, 
all  will  come  right.  They  are  only  at  the  club.  They 
find  the  faces  of  them  things  with  red  and  black  spots 
more  attractive  than  the  countenances  of  their  pretty 
wives.  That's  all.  It  has  always  been  the  way  with 
them.    Think  no  more  of  it." 

But  my  mother  could  not  be  thus  easily  pacified.  She 
therefore  sent  Molly  over  to  Mrs.  Murray's  to  inquire 
after  the  health  of  the  invalid,  with  directions  to  recon- 
noiter. 

She  soon  came  back  and  reported  that  she  found  the 
lady  sitting  up,  dressed  in  a  splendid  mourning  robe  de 
ckambre ;  but  she  was  unable  to  walk  from  a  recent 
attack  of  neuralgia.  After  she  left  Mrs.  Murray's  room, 
on  her  way  through  the  hall,  she  heard  her  name  called. 
She  turned  quickly  and  saw  my  cousin  come  from  his 
room ;  he  gave  her  two  notes,  then  went  back  and  shut 
the  door. 

"  Oh,  ho  !    Beginning  that  game  again,  are  you  ?  Well, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


433 


I  reckon  the  old  one  in  there  will  soon  break  that  up  as 
once  before,  when  she  comes  to  know  it."  Then  she  began 
to  sing  a  line  from  '  Love's  Young  Dream,'— 

V  *  Oh  !  that  hallowed  form  is  ne'er  forgot, 
Which  first  love  traced/  " 

And  Tivvy  ran  off,  laughing  and  singing. 

One  note  was  to  my  mother,  expressing  his  regret  on 
hearing  of  her  increased  indisposition,  and  begging  her 
to  name  an  hour  to  receive  him.    The  other  was  to  me. 

"  At  Home,  10  o'clock. 
u  My  life,  my  soul,  my  Marianna !  I  care  not  if  you  are 
his  wife !  You  are  still  my  only  sunbeam!  The  only  ray 
to  light  and  warm  my  cold  and  gloomy  path  through 
this  cheerless  vale.  I  believe  we  have  been  deceived  — 
defrauded.  I  think  now,  since  I  have  met  you,  and  felt 
the  throbs  of  that  loving  heart,  as  it  panted  on  my 
bosom,  that  it  was  all  a  work  of  treachery  —  a  tissue  of 
falsehoods  —  a  device  of  evil  ones  to  tear  us  asunder. 
And  now  I  love  you  ten  thousand  times  more  than  ever. 
Can  you  conceive  of  such  a  thing,  dear  girl  ?  I  was  led 
to  believe  that  you  were  estranged  — that  you  preferred 
him,  the  stranger  cousin,  to  me,  who  helped  your  mother 
to  rear  you,  and  who  had,  from  that  hour  of  innocent  joys 
and  infantile  delights,  loved  you  on  with  an  untiring 
devotion,  until  I  breathed  the  passionate  adoration  of 
manhood  into  your  pure  ears.  I  am  now,  Anna,  con- 
vinced that  all  was  false  seeming,  and  that  those  letters 
were  forgeries.  But  who  was  the  perpetrator?  you  will 
ask  me.  Aye  !  let  us  not  seek  to  know.  It  is  too  late  to 
remedy  the  evil ;  but  I  shall  not  struggle  against  the 
promptings  of  my  soul,  which  tell  me  that  there  is  no 
purer  or  holier  shrine  on  the  face  of  the  earth ;  and  it  is 
there  I  shall,  from  henceforth,  offer  up  my  homage,  my 
untiring  adoration,  Do  not  be  alarmed  at  what  tran- 
37 


434 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


spired  in  the  parlor.    Your  that  is,  Mr.  Glencoe — is  a 

perfect  tiger  in  fierceness ;  a  lion  in  courage.  But  do  you 
not  know,  my  love,  that  these  wild  beasts  are  in  subjec- 
tion to  their  keepers  ?  Your  poor  cousin  Conrad  has  had 
an  opportunity  of  studying  the  peculiar  traits  of  mind 
and  temper  of  the  Grlencoes. 

"  Behave  with  calm  dignity  ;  make  no  concessions  ;  no 
apology  for  what  has  passed,  or  for  what  may  occur.  You 
have  done  no  wrong;  you  meant  none.  Nature  —  sup- 
pressed nature,  burst  forth  then.  The  human  heart  is 
said  to  be  deceitful  above  all  things ;  but  truth  sometimes 
forced  to  conceal  itself  at  the  bottom,  will  at  last,  cry  out 
for  freedom,  and  assert  its  supremacy.  Such  love  as  ours 
is  from  heaven,  heavenly.  It  is  an  emanation  from  Him, 
who  is  the  source  of  all  love.  We  have  been  cheated  of 
ours,  and  the  wronged  and  wrung  soul  demands  retri- 
bution. 

"  Trust  to  me,  my  sweet  girl.  I  will  never  compromise 
or  involve  you  in  trouble.  I  shall  continue  to  visit  you 
and  your  mother  as  usual ;  that  is,  if  you  will  permit  me. 
Express  but  one  word  of  disapprobation  to  this  proposal ; 
show  but  the  slightest  symptom  of  satiety,  and  I  will 
withdraw.  Say  that  your  happiness  is  increased  by  this, 
and  I  will  stand  aloof  and  watch  over  you  from  a  dis- 
tance. Till  then,  my  life,  my  love,  my  soul,  I  am  your 
true  friend.  I  shall  call  on  your  mother  in  the  course  of 
the  day.    Shall  I  also,  see  my  little  cousin  Anna  ? 

"C,  C.  Murray." 

I  locked  myself  up  within  my  chamber.  I  pondered 
over  this  letter.  I  did  not  subscribe  to  it  with  my  under- 
standing; my  sense  of  honor  forbade  it.  The  still  small 
voice  condemned  it.  But  the  heart  is  sometimes  a  special 
pleader.  Yet  I  could  not  forget  that  I  w^as  a  wife,  an 
immaculate  one.  I  thought  it  cruel  in  my  cousin  to  tempt 
me  thus ;  and  I  uttered  one  of  those  bitter  walls.  "  O 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


435 


God !  teach  me  the  way,  and  deliver  me  from  tempta- 
tion !  "  I  again  read  the  letter;  reason  lent  me  her  ray, 
while  in  the  gloomy  solitude  of  my  room,  to  view  his 
concU^  and  scan  his  motives.  The  verdict  of  my  better 
judgment,  and  that  of  religion,  as  far  as  I  knew,  was 
against  him ;  but  this  heart,  this  poor,  weak,  sinful  heart 
arrayed  itself  in  panoply  of  steel  to  do  battle  in  his 
cause.  But  I  had  prayed  to  God  to  deliver  me  from  this 
strait,  and  my  grandmother  had  told  me  to  do  so  at  all 
times  in  faith.  So  I  firmly  believed  that  my  impulses, 
thenceforth,  would  be  directed  and  incited  by  Him. 
Eeader,  can  you  doubt  the  issue  ? 

I  did  not  go  down  to  tea.  The  next  day  came,  without 
bringing  home  either  my  father  or  husband.  In  the  after- 
noon, my  mother's  maid  came  in,  and  said  Mr.  Murray 
was  with  her  mistress,  and  desired  to  see  me.  I  begged 
to  be  excused,  pleading  a  violent  headache,  which  was 
true.    I  heard  no  more  from  him. 

A  few  hours  after,  when  I  had  fallen  into  a  light  sleep, 
there  was  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door.  My  husband  entered 
and  came  right  up  to  me.  I  rose  to  meet  him,  expecting 
rebukes  and  abuse.  He  kissed  me,  and  his  lips  were  hot; 
there  was  also  a  smell  of  wine  on  his  breath.  He  seemed 
nervous  and  excited ;  laughed  a  good  deal,  but  this,  too, 
partook  of  the  hollowness  and  coarseness  of  the  satur- 
nalia. There  were  many  subtleties  used  to  throw  me  off 
my  guard,  and  to  lead  me,  as  he  thought  ingeniously,  to 
speak  of  my  cousin,  by  alluding  to  his  mother  several 
times. 

I  asked  him,  at  last,  if  he  had  yet  called  ? 

«  Why  no,  little  wife,  I  have  waited  for  you  to  show  me 
the  way,  well  knowing  that  it  would  be  such  a  treat  to 
you  to  do  so." 

Then  he  looked  so  keenly  into  my  eyes,  that  I  must 
have  quailed,  had  there  been  life  enough  left  in  me  to 


436 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


furnish  one  single  emotion.  I  calmly  remarked,  "  I  am  at 
your  service,  sir,  at  any  time." 

He  laughed  loudly  again,  and  said,  "My  uncle  John 
would  have  dragged  me  in  there  last  night,  and  thjg|ight 
before  ;  but  I  would  not  go.  By  the  by,  Anna,  yourrather 
is  in  love  with  that  piece  of  frame-work." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  so  slightingly  of  Mrs.  Murray,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  take  it  up  so?  Do  you  love  her  too?  " 
Then  he  snarled. 

"  I  cultivate  a  feeling  of  complacency  for  her." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  and  for  the  son  too  ;  "  and  he  grew  pale. 

"No,  sir,  that  is  natural." 

He  jumped  up,  and  looked  fiercely  at  me,  but  seeing  me 
quite  unmoved,  sat  down  again.  Presently  he  arose, 
walked  toward  the  door  —  then  wheeling  suddenly,  as  if 
struck  by  some  new  thought,  said,  "  Anna,  my  love,  we 
are  to  have  company  to  tea.  I  wish  you  to  be  bright."  I 
bowed  assent. 

I  slept  for  an  hour,  then  submitted  to  a  very  elaborate 
toilet.  I  do  not  know  why  I  did  this ;  I  did  not  analyze 
the  feeling  which  induced  it;  but  I  rather  rejoiced  at  my 
appearance  when  I  viewed  myself  in  the  large  mirror.  I 
was  summoned  to  the  drawing-room.  It  occurred  to  me, 
that  I  would  wait  and  see  whether  my  husband  would 
come  for  me  as  usual.  I  remained  some  time  ;  and  when 
he  did  not  come,  I  felt  hurt.  What  a  strange  compound 
we  are  !  What  a  bundle  of  contrarieties  !  Yesterday,  my 
greatest  desire  was  to  keep  him  at  a  distance.  To-day,  I  am 
wounded  because  he  fails  in  a  trifling  point  of  etiquette. 

I  went  to  see  my  mother.  When  I  asked  her  of  my 
father,  she  burst  into  tears.  At  this  moment  the  door 
opened,  and  my  husband  entered,  looking  still  very  much 
flushed.  He  comes  up  to  the  bedside,  and  greets  my 
mother,  inquiring  kindly  about  her  health  ;  then  asked 
for  my  father?    Ere  he  could  be  answered,  the  latter 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


437 


comes  in ;  and  walking  up  to  me  said,  "  Marianna,  you 
are  inquired  for  in  the  parlor  until  I  am  tired  of  it.  What 
do  you  here  so  long?    Go  down,  John." 

"  Yes.  Come,  my  love  ;  I  am  here  on  purpose  to  lead 
you  to  our  friends." 

As  we  passed  from  the  room,  I  heard  my  grandmother 
say,  "  Merciful  God  !  They  are  both  drunk." 

On  going  into  the  parlor,  my  husband  seemed  to  make 
a  point  of  leading  me  up  to  my  cousin.  He  arose  without 
embarrassment,  shook  hands  with  me,  and  seated  himself 
by  my  side.  I  glanced  around  the  room.  There  were 
several  other  gentlemen  present.  All  that  evening,  Mr. 
Glencoe  seemed  to  feel  a  savage  joy  in  witnessing  the 
attentions  of  Conrad  ;  and  tried  in  every  way  consistent 
with  politeness,  to  throw  us  together.  When  supper  was 
announced,  he  was  left  to  go  with  me,  and  to  take  the 
vacant  seat  by  my  side.  When  I  was  invited  to  play, 
after  tea,  my  cousin  handed  me  to  the  instrument,  turned 
the  music,  and  asked  for  the  songs.  All  the  other  guests 
were  withdrawn  to  take  refreshments  —  sometimes  indi- 
vidually, and  once  or  twice  en  masse.  He  was  never 
invited. 

From  that  evening  I  date  the  commencement  of  a  long 
series  of  sorrows  and  petty  persecutions.  Everything 
seemed  to  excite  his  suspicions.  Then  he  would  break 
out  into  bitter  reproaches,  open  invectives,  and  coarse 
accusations.  Sometimes  he  would  throw  out  innuendoes, 
and  taunt  me,  saying,  with  a  hideous  smile,  that  "  I  had 
been  forsaken,  and  cast  off  for  another."  Again,  for  a 
whole  week,  I  was  not  allowed  to  see  my  cousin.  Was 
compelled  to  keep  my  room,  and  feign  sickness  as  an 
excuse,  when  he  and  others  called.  Then  I  would  be 
paraded  out,  and  left  alone  with  him ;  and  tempted  and 
lured  on  to  do  and  say  things  heedlessly,  which  might 
have  been  wrong  under  some  circumstances  and  with  less 
provocation. 


438 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


I  was  almost  deranged.  I  scarce  knew  right  from 
wrong ;  and  if  I  erred  in  speech  or  act,  it  was  from  igno- 
rance. But  I  felt  myself  growing  reckless.  I  began  to 
feel  that  I  did  not  feel.  I  no  longer  tried  to  please  my 
husband  or  my  father.  They  had  crushed  this  desire, 
with  all  spirit,  out  of  me.  I  had  become  a  mere  automa- 
ton in  the  hands  of  any  who  might  take  the  trouble  to 
direct  me.  I  implicitly  obeyed  my  husband  and  father : 
I  went  and  came  as  they  directed.  I  met  my  cousin  or 
did  not,  just  as  they  chose  to  suggest.  I  failed  in  nothing; 
yet  I  made  no  effort  to  succeed,  because  I  cared  not.  1 
was  at  that  time,  as  ever,  a  chaste,  obedient  and  respectful 
wife.  I  did  all  that  God  suffered  me  to  do.  I  did  not 
love  him.  I  could  not.  I  had  not  the  power  to  do  so. 
These  continual  droppings  of  small  things  —  this  fretting 
away  of  the  foundation,  was  effecting  a  fearful  change  in 
feeling  and  principle.  I  was  so  wretched  that  I  did  not  see 
how  my  condition  could  be  made  better  or  worse.  True, 
he  had  never  yet  laid  violent  hands  on  me ;  but  he  had 
applied  the  epithet  which  Othello  puts  upon  Desdemona, 
more  times  than  the  Moor  ever  did,  and  with  just  as  much 
propriety,  as  far  as  I  can  see;  perhaps  with  less  just 
cause. 

Alas !  all  things  work  against  me.  I  was  not  now 
encouraged  by  the  presence  of  my  grandmother,  who  was 
a  restraint  on  him  as  well.  She  was  confined  to  her  bed 
with  rheumatism.  The  only  solace  I  had,  was  to  creep  to 
her  bedside  and  pour  out  my  lamentations.  All  my  grief, 
with  every  other  vexatious  care,  was  kept  away  from  my 
poor  invalid  mother.  About  this  time,  my  husband 
became  furiously  jealous  of  the  young  Walter.  I  had 
been  forbidden  to  speak  or  to  reply  to  him,  which  I 
obeyed  to  the  letter.  Then  I  was  charged  with  keeping 
up  a  telegraphic  intercourse  with  our  eyes ;  and  thus  my 
difficulties  increased.  I  was  not  permitted  to  converse 
with  either  of  these  gentlemen,  notwithstanding  I  was 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


439 


forced  to  appear  in  the  parlor  every  evening,  where  1  met 
them  and  other  company. 

I  was  compelled  to  pass  whole  hours  at  the  harp  or 
piano  ;  required  to  sing  merry  songs,  to  talk  blithely 
(which,  by-the-by,  I  never  succeeded  in  doing),  while 
those  bloodshot  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me  like  the  most 
dreadful  nightmare.  God  help  me  !  I  know  not  half  my 
time  what  I  am  doing.  I  scarce  comprehend  what  is  said 
to  me.  A  sense  of  utter  wretchedness  is  the  only  abiding 
feeling. 


440 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


w 

CHAPTEE  XL. 

THE    JOURNAL  ,  PARADISE    AND  PURGATORY. 

"  Jealousy,  that  cloats  but  dooms,  and  murders,  yet  adores," 

"  I  will  be  master  of  what  is  my  own  ; 
She  is  my  goods,  my  chattels,  my  household  stuff." 

I  had  passed  such  an  evening  as  is  described  in  the  last 
chapter,  when,  toward  the  close,  Mr.  Glencoe  took  his 
seat  on  the  sofa  by  my  cousin,  who  had  been  sitting 
silent,  either  absorbed  in  listening  or  thinking.  "  Mur- 
ray, did  you  ever  hear  your  cousin  sing  that  last  new 
song?  7'  calling  it  by  name. 

"  I  have  not.    I  was  not  aware  that  she  had  learned  it." 

"  Why,  the  little  fairy !  she  did  not  learn  it,  but  played 
it  off  as  soon  as  I  placed  it  before  her.  She  does  some 
things  intuitively.  Anna,  will  you  favor  us  with  it,  my 
love?" 

I  walked  to  the  piano,  not  suffering  either  Conrad  or 
Walter  to  lead  me,  lest  they  might  perchance  touch  my 
hand,  and  thereby  give  offense.  They  took  their  station 
on  either  side  of  me,  and  before  I  had  finished  the  second 
verse,  my  husband  left  the  room.  I  saw  him  go  out,  and 
I  felt  an  inexpressible  relief  in  his  absence,  for  I  had  got 
to  loathe  him. 

A  reaction  immediately  took  place.  My  spirits,  which 
had  been  spell-bound  for  such  a  length  of  time,  now  burst 
forth,  and  my  genial  nature  reveled  in  gladness.  The  in- 
cubus was  shaken  off.  Neither  the  dreaded  father,  nor  the 
jealous,  despised  husband  were  present.  I  was  like  a  child 
just  let  loose  from  school,  in  its  gambols,  or  a  bird  from 


THE    NIGHT    WAT  C II 


441 


its  cage.  I  talked,  and  laughed,  and  sung,  and  played.  My 
voice  once  more  became  full  and  gushing,  rich  and  melodi- 
ous. I  was  urged  to  sing  song  after  song.  Walter  and  my 
cousin  Conrad  stood  by  me,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  my 
recovered  mirthfulness.  They  gaze  at  me  fondly,  with 
that  tender,  protecting  look  which  belongs  to  a  mother 
for  an  unfortunate  child.  O  Grod  !  it  is  well  that  there 
is  but  one  such  season  of  bliss  in  a  lifetime.  Eut  one ! 
Were  it  not  so,  we  should  have  no  aspirations  for  heaven. 

This  delicious  evening  drew  to  a  close.  They  are  gone. 
I  am  sitting  alone  on  the  same  seat  at  the  piano,  enjoying 
it  all  over  in  review. 

u  Come,  go  to  your  room,  Miss  Pet,"  said  a  kind  bat 
alarmed  voice.  I  jumped  up,  threw  my  arms  around  the 
neck  of  my  nurse,  and  wept  for  happiness  and  gladness. 
She  led  me  away . 

"  Now,  don't  ondress  yet.  Have  it  all  over  with  your 
clothes  on,"  said  she. 

"  What,  good  nurse  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  Have  what 
over  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  poor  lamb  !  You  will  know  too  soon,  I  fear  ;  " 
and  instead  of  removing  my  dress,  she  made  me  put  on  a 
silk  sack.  I  had  worn  an  evening  dress,  and  my  arms 
and  neck  were  bare. 

Some  one  is  at  the  door,  and  the  good  creature  slipped 
from  the  room.  My  husband  enters.  He  stands  before 
me  with  those  bloodshot  eyes,  that  ghastly  face,  and  that 
quivering  upper  lip.  I  meet  him  face  to  face,  unblench- 
ingly.  I  have  done  no  wrong,  I  have  injured  no  one ; 
then  why  should  I  quail  under  any  human  eye  ?  He 
approaches  quite  near,  looks  tauntingly  at  me,  runs  his 
face  into  mine.    I  do  not  move,  but  look  at  him  calmly. 

"  Out,  wanton  !    Base,  lewd,  unblushing  !  Take 

that  —  and  that,"  giving  me  a  furious  slap  on  the  face, 
which  sent  me  reeling  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 
Ere  I  had  recovered  from  my  amazement,  he  had  jerked 


442 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


me  forth  again,  and  blow  after  blow  descended  quickly 
on  my  face,  head,  and  chest.  I  was  quite  unable  to  shriek 
out.    He  had  stopped  for  the  want  of  breath. 

Just  as  his  arm  was  raised  to  inflict  another  blow,  a 
powerful  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Stop,  sir  ;  on  your  life  don't  strike  !  What  !  would 
you  strike  your  wife?  your  own  flesh  and  bone?  Ha! 
blood  !  what  does  this  mean?  Wretch  !  coward  !  rascal ! 
what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  said  Molly,  who  was,  as  I 
have  said,  a  powerful  woman.  She  took  him  by  the 
shoulders  and  shook  him  fiercely;  then,  giving  him  a 
violent  push,  he  fell  heavily  with  his  head  against  the 
fender.  She  stopped  but  an  instant  to  look  at  him, 
then  exclaimed,  in  a  sullen  voice,  "  God  forgive  me  !  I 
didn't  mean  to  kill  him  quite,  but  I  have  done  it,  anyhow, 
and  I  can't  help  it." 

She  hurried  me  through  the  basement,  again,  into  the 
garden,  thence  to  a  grotto  on  the  confines  of  the  grounds, 
and  placing  me  in  the  arms  of  my  cousin  Conrad,  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  to  him  the  preceding  occurrences. 

"  Great  God  !  "  cried  he,  "  What  a  monster  !  But,  Molly, 
you  may  have  killed  him." 

"  I  'spect  I  has,  I'm  'fraid  I  has,  but  it  can't  be  helped 
nowT ! " 

"  But  you  will  be  hanged  !  good  honest  creature  !  The 
provocation  and  your  motive  will  not  shield  you  ;  you 
will  be  hanged." 

"  I  knows  that,  as  wrell  as  you  does,  Mas'r  Conrad. 
You  needn't  keep  telling  me  of  it,  'thout  you  be  trying 
to  git  me  use  to  it  'forehand.  But  thar's  more  sides 
than  one  to  every  thing.  How  they  gwine  prove  it  on 
me  ?    Tell  me  that  clever  over  ?  " 

"  If  that  man  is  dead,  and  we  are  found  here,  or  it  is 
known  that  we  have  been  here,  every  one  of  us  will  be 
implicated  in  his  murder." 

"  You  better  see  to  that  child  in  your  arms  before  she 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


443 


bleeds  to  death.  He  cracked  a  blood  vessel  somewhere  in 
her  face,  and  the  blood  spouted  all  over  his  haggard, 
devilish-looking  countenance.  I  wish  you  could  ha'  seen 
him  then." 

"  But,  Molly,  I  fear,  in  your  just  indignation,  you  have 
killed  him." 

"  Don't  care  !  He  would  ha'  killed  that  sweet  flower," 
said  she. 

u  Oh  !  nurse,  I  am  sick,  almost  unto  death  !  Take  me 
hence,  dear  cousin  !  I  can  never  behold  his  face  again  !  I 
will  never  enter  that  house  any  more  !  I  will  die  here,  or 
in  the  woods  or  floods." 

"  Then  thar  gwine  to  be  two  murders  !  Don't  say  that, 
darling  Miss  Pet;  think  of  your  poor,  broken-hearted 
mother  ! " 

"  God  bless  my  mother  !  "  cried  I ;  "  I  am  ready  to  live 
or  die  for  her." 

It  was  now  decided  that  Molly  should  return  to  the 
house  and  reconnoiter.  We  were  alone.  I  was  reclining 
on  that  tender,  manly  breast ;  I  felt  myself  nestled  like  a 
helpless  child  in  that  brave  bosom.  His  lips  were  pressed 
to  mine.  I  drank  in  his  warm,  fragrant  breath  ;  I  forgot 
my  wrongs ;  my  wounds  were  no  longer  felt.  I  ceased 
to  hate  the  monster  who  was  the  instrument  in  procuring 
me  this  moment  of  bliss.  Molly  was  not  long  absent. 
We  were  left  alone  but  a  short  time  in  the  grotto.  But  it 
was  surely  a  foretaste  of  the  pure  joys  of  the  blessed.  We 
listened  to  the  soothing  ripple  of  the  stream,  as  it  so 
peacefully  glided  by ;  the  sighing  of  the  winds  through 
the  tall  trees ;  the  plaintive  notes  of  the  stock  dove, 
mourning  perhaps  some  dead  or  faithless  mate  ;  and  we 
drank  in  delicious  draughts  of  odor,  the  pure  breath  of 
flowers,  wafted  to  us  on  the  gentle,  loving  breeze.  We 
were  soothed  and  refreshed,  and  tranquilized  ;  above  all, 
wTe  were  together.  All  else  in  this  world  was  forgotten. 
I  felt  that  I  would  wish  to  exhale  my  soul  out  in  love  to 


444  THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 

him,  and  gratitude  to  God.  It  was  a  holy  hour,  and  my 
feelings  were  holy.    I  was  rapt  away. 

But  alas !  all  joy  is  fleeting  ;  I  was  dragged  back  to 
this  mundane  sphere,  by  Molly  exclaiming,  "Bless  God  ! 
I  walk  so  fast,  being  something  of  a  big  nigger,  that  I'm 
quite  out  of  wind,"  and  she  threw  herself  down,  and 
panted,  and  puffed  for  some  time,  before  we  could  get  her 
to  speak.  "  No,  bless  God  !  no  such  good  luck  ;  he's  live, 
and  live  like  to  be;  I'm  afraid.  He  got  up  his-self,  and 
washed  his  own  face.  I  jest  went  boldly  in,  and  when  he 
turned  round  and  looked  at  me,  I  said,  'Now,  aint  you  a 
nice  man  for  a  husband?  Shame!  shame  on  you.'  He 
made  up  to  me  again.  I  drawed  back,  and  made  my  fist 
into  a  knot  as  hard  as  any  iron,  and  said,  '  John  Glencoe, 
I'm  a  nigger,  and  I  reckon  you  can  have  me  hung  for  salt 
and  battleing,  but  keep  your  hands  offer  me,  else  I'll 
make  sure  work  of  it  next  time.  You  know  I'm  no 
baby  in  strengt  when  I'm  raised.  You  almost  killed 
your  wife,  and  I  tried  to  kill  you  for  it.' 

"  He  looked  wildly  at  me,  like  he  jist  waked  up,  and  said, 
L  Oh  !  Molly,  I'm  very  sorry  ef  I  have  done  any  one  any 
wrong.  I  did'nt  know  that  I  had  hurt  any  body.  I  was 
drunk ;  have  been  for  two  days.  I  do  love  her  so  much, 
and  she  will  not  love  me ;  all  I  can  do,  I  can't  get  her 
even  to  say  she  loves  me ;  no,  not  even  to  say  it.' 

"  '  Because,  that  child  bin  taught  to  tell  the  truth  only. 
Do  you  'spect  to  beat  love  into  her  with  your  fist  ?  Do 
you?    Tell  me  that?' 

"  'Beat!  What  about  beat?  You  dare  not,  you  old  devil, 
insinuate  that  I  ever  struck  my  wife,  that  gentle,  unof- 
fending angel !  I  surely  have  not  been  such  a  craven 
dog  as  to  strike  a  defenseless  woman  ? ' 

"  '  Come,  that  will  do,  sir.  You  can't  come  it  over  old 
Molly  Wise  that  away.  You  'spose  I  didn't  see  you  get  up, 
'cause  my  1  little  pet  lamb '  went  to  sing  a  few  love  songs  to 
her  cousin,  and  wring  your  teeth,  and  grit  your  hands, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


445 


and  turn  chalky  in  the  face,  and  come  in  the  back  parlor, 
and  set  down  thar,  and  watch  'em  through  the  crack  of 
the  folding  doors  ?  You  think  I  did'nt  see  you  take  that 
riding  whip,  and  place  that  sterletto  in  your  bosom,  or 
whatever  you  call  that  dirk  thar,  jest  because  the  poor 
thing  happened  to  sing  a  few  love  '  

"  'Yes,  d          her!  she  did  sing  and  look  love  too.  I'd 

do  it  again  !  I'd  crush  her  to  death,  even  while  I  am  so 
frantically  in  love  with  her.  I  believe  I'll  kill  every  one 
of  you ; '  and  he  seized  me  by  the  two  arms  and  began  to 
shake  me.  But  I  shook  him  off,  just  like  Saint  Paul  did 
that  venomous  wild  beast  what  come  outen  the  fire  that 
time  and  fastened  on  his  arm. 

"  Then  laying  hold  of  him,  I  holds  him  like  as  if  he  was 
fastened  up  in  a  screw  or  a  vice.  I  thought  his  upper  lip 
was  gwine  to  jump  off  from  the  rest  of  his  face ;  while 

his  eyes  blazed,  and  he  say,  '  You  d  d  old  devil  you  ! 

Don't  you  know  that  I  can  have  you  put  to  death  for  this?' 

" i  Don't  you  know,  you  fierce  little  cock  sparrow  you !  that 
I  can  fix  you  so,  that  thar  will  be  nobody  to  tell  the  tale?' 

"  'Come,  Molly,  unhand  me.   Where  is  your  mistress?' 

"  1  What  you  want  to  know  that  for  ?  You  want  to  kill 
her  over  agin  ?  ' 

"  1  No  ;  I  want  to  go  down  on  my  knees  to  her,  and 'ask 
her  pardon.' 

"  i  Yes  ;  and  to-morrow  night  kill  her  over  agin,  if  she 
look  at  her  cousin  or  Mas'r  Walter.  What  you  bring  'em 
here  for,  if  you  that  jealous-hearted,  and  can't  help  it? 
I'll  tell  you  now  what  you  got  to  do.  She  is  gwine  to 
sleep  with  her  grandmother.  So  you  jest  go  to  bed  and  say 
nothing  about  what's  happened  'till  I  consult  with  Miss 
Pet.  If  you  don't,  I'll  go  from  one  end  o'  this  town  to 
tother,  and  'spose  you  by  breakfast  to-morrow.' 

"So  I  left  him.  I  heard  him  say,  as  I  came  out,  '  Oh  ! 
I  was  drunk.  I  wish  I  had  died,  before  I  acted  the 
fool  so.'    Then  I  heard  him  lock  his  door.    And  that's 


446 


THE     NIGHT    W  A T  C  H  . 


all,  and  it's  enough.  So  I  left.  And  now,  I  think,  it's 
high  time  for  that  child  to  go  home.  Poor,  beat,  bruised 
and  battered  up  thing." 

Another  passionate  embrace,  and  we  separated. 

My  grandmother  seemed  very  indignant,  and  wept; 
while  she  bestowed  execrations  on  all  the  Glencoes.  She 
also  reiterated  her  determination  to  "  stick  by  me,"  even 
if  the  whole  world  deserted  me.  I  fell  asleep  while  she 
was  repeating  those  consoling  assurances.  I  did  not 
leave  my  grandmother's  room  for  a  whole  week.  I 
learned  that  my  husband  looked  very  grave,  and  kept 
quite  sober  for  the  first  few  days ;  then  he  fell  into  the 
old  way.    He  was  now  a  confirmed  inebriate. 

Every  day  I  received  a  note  from  my  cousin.  At  first, 
he  wrote  incoherently,  and  filled  up  the  pages  with  mal- 
edictions on  my  persecutors.  Then  he  grew  more  rational, 
and  after  two  days  commenced  making  proposals  to  me  as 
once  before  —  said  he  would  take  me  to  England;  but 
always  wound  up  by  saying  that  my  word  was  the  law, 
and  should  govern  him  in  all  things. 

Then  he  proposed  to  me  to  elope  with  him;  said  our 
happiness  had  been  sacrificed  to  the  selfish  interest  of 
others,  that  they  had  used  us  for  their  own  aggrandize- 
ment ;  thus  blasting  our  young  and  beautiful  lives.  I  still 
declined. 

Had  I  been  left  in  quiet  seclusion,  with  my  grand- 
mother, I  should  never  have  taken  another  step  down- 
ward. To-day,  I  am  able  to  be  up,  and  to  dress  myself. 
A  message  from  my  father  takes  me  to  the  parlor.  He 
demands  to  know  why  I  have  left  my  husband's  room  ? 
Then  he  also  applies  opprobrious  epithets  to  me ;  accuses 
me  of  cherishing  a  guilty  passion  for  my  cousin  Conrad, 
and  ends  by  swearing  that  we  should  never  meet  again  ; 
avows  his  intention  to  send  Molly  away ;  swears  that  I 
should  never  see  Conrad  again,  unless  I  would  promise  to 
return  to  my  husband,  love  him,  and  behave  myself  as  a 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  II . 


447 


chaste,  obedient  wife  should  do.  He  opened  the  book, 
and  said,  "  See  the  sacred  Word  of  God.  Swear !  "  I 
turned  my  eyes  mechanically  to  the  page ;  they  fell  on  the 
words,  u  Swear  not  at  all."  I  pointed  it  out  to  my  poor 
violent,  passionate  father.  An  involuntary  oath  escaped 
him.  "  Obstinate  fool !  This  is  enough  to  break  up  our 
compact.  Weak,  superstitious  thing  that  you  are  about 
that  book ! "  I  rose  to  leave  the  room.  u  Sit  down, 
madam  ;  you  leave  me  not  until  you  have  promised." 

Nurse  came  to  the  door.  "  Miss  Pet,  your  mother  want 
to  see  you  one  minit." 

m  will  return,  sir,  anon,"  said  I. 

On  our  way,  Molly  said,  "  Now,  honey,  you  jis  go  to 
John  Glencoe's  room  ;  I  reckon  he  won't  'noy  you  much 
at  first  with  his  decait ;  but  go  any  how,  and  stay  till  tea 
time,  and  do  like  you  gwine  make  up  with  him  ;  then  I'll 
git  you  out  the  scrape  to-night." 

When  I  met  my  mother,  she  looked  frightened  out  of 
her  wits. 

"  O  child,  for  the  love  of  heaven,  go  back  to  your 
room  ;  I  really  believe  they  will  murder  us  both." 

"  I  am  going,  dear  mamma.  Do  not  let  this  distress 
you."  After  talking  a  short  time,  I  went  back  to  my 
father. 

"  I  hope,  madam,  you  are  ready  to  return  to  the  honest, 
affectionate  man  who  honors  you  with  the  title  of  wife." 
"  I  am  ready  to  obey  you,  sir." 

"  Then  retire  at  once,  and  let  me  hear  of  no  more 
scenes." 

I  found  Mr.  Glencoe  sitting  there  reading.  He  met  me 
at  the  door,  took  my  hand,  and  did  look  very  penitent,  as 
he  said,  u  Anna,  may  I  hope  that  I  shall  ever  be  forgiven  ? 
Can  a  lifetime  of  remorse  purchase  your  pardon  ?  Will 
such  devotion,  love,  and  service  as  were  never  dreamed 
of  by  woman,  or  witnessed  in  man,  at  last  win  me  a  lit- 
tle place  in.  your  heart?  "    All  this  time  we  had  stood, 


448  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

he  still  holding  my  hand.  JSTow  he  attempted  to  draw  me 
to  him. 

I  jerked  away  as  if  I  had  felt  the  sting  of  a  viper. 
"  Sit  there,"  said  I,  pointing  to  a  chair  at  some  distance 
from  me,  and  I  seated  myself  opposite  to  him. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  blame  you.  I  have  been  worse  than  a 
savage." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  abstractedly,  "yes,  I  know  ;  I  can't  get 
over  it  all  at  once.    My  head  is  still  very  sore." 

He  threw  himself  down  before  me  and  clasped  my 
knees,  caught  my  hands  and  kissed  them  like  some  half- 
demented  lover — implored  me  with  frantic  voice  and  man- 
ner to  receive  him  again  into  favor. 

Oh,  how  I  hated  him  !  Nay,  despised  him.  My  loath- 
ing amounted  to  madness.  I  felt  if  I  were  compelled  to 
endure  that  man's  embraces  again,  I  should  become  a 
maniac.  Anything  else  ;  the  cloister,  the  grave,  a  strange 
country,  the  north  or  south  pole,  anything  but  to  be 
pressed  to  the  bosom  of  that  petty  tyrant,  that  puling 
layer,  that  disgustingly  uxorious  husband,  and  jealous 
monster.  I  said  to  him,  "If  you  will  give  me  time  ;  but 
you  must  not  force  this  thing  upon  me  now.  Time  is 
your  best  advocate  in  this  miserable  business." 

A  servant  hands  him  a  card.  "  My  wife,"  said  he,  u  a 
few  friends  wish  me  to  meet  them  at  the  club.  Promise 
me  that  I  shall  find  you  here  when  I  return.  Shall  I, 
dear  wife  ?  " 

"  If  you  do  not  come  too  early.  I  am  obliged  to  be 
with  my  grandmother  for  several  hours.  At  what  time 
will  you  be  here  ?" 

"  I  fear  not  before  one  o'clock.    Will  that  do?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  and  he  attempted  to  kiss  my  lips.  Had 
the  rotary  motion  of  the  earth  depended  on  it,  had  I 
known  that  I  should  have  been  murdered  on  the  spot,  I 
could  not  have  prevented  that  shudder  and  recoil. 

M  Well,"  said  he  again,  "  I  can  not  blame  you."  So  he  left. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


449 


I  met  him  again  at  tea,  but  he  and  my  father  both 
seemed  pre-occupied.  Greatly  to  my  relief,  there  was  no 
conversation.  After  supper,  they  rose  to  depart.  My 
husband  came  to  me,  and  wTith  a  sickening  display  of 
fondness,  kissed  me  on  the  forehead,  and  said,  "I  will  be 
the  first  to  leave,  my  love."    And  they  left  together. 

On  going  up  stairs,  I  met  Molly.  She  handed  me  a 
note. 

u  Dear  Marianna —  Come  to  the  grotto  an  hour  from 
this  time.  I  shall  be  there.  It  is  important  to  our  mu- 
tual safety  that  we  meet  without  loss  of  time.  The 
evenings  are  cool,  my  love,  therefore  put  on  a  thick  dress, 
lest  you  take  cold.  Molly  will  come  with  you.  Fail  not 
to  meet  me.    God  bless  you  till  then.  C.  C.  M." 

I  passed  into  my  mother's  room.  I  felt  a  premonition 
that  I  should  embrace  her  to-night  for  the  last  time.  I 
kissed  her  over  and  over  again  ;  I  bathed  her  hands 
with  my  tears  ;  I  knelt  by  her  bedside  ;  I  invoked  bless- 
ings on  her  head.    I  was  overwhelmed  with  grief. 

"  My  poor,  dear  pet  lamb,  why  are  you  so  distressed  ? 
Do  you  then  dislike  him  so  much  ?  "  said  she,  not  divin- 
ing the  true  cause. 

"  Oh  yes,  mamma,  he  abuses  me." 

Some  one  touched  my  shoulder. 

"  How  ?  "  said  my  mother. 

Another  pressure.  I  looked  up  ;  it  was  my  nurse.  I 
knew  what  it  meant.  I  got  up,  embraced  her  tenderly 
again  and  again,  and  left  the  room.  I  never  saw  her 
afterward.  When  I  entered  my  room,  I  found  Molly 
there.  She  said  if  I  were  going  to  see  my  cousin  Con- 
rad, I  had  better  put  on  the  dress  which  she  held  in  her 
hand.  It  was  a  traveling  habit.  I  was  very  passive, 
objected  to  nothing.  She  attired  me  as  she  chose;  then 
throwing  a  mantle  around  me,  tied  on  my  bonnet.  I 
38 


450 


T  H  E     N  I  GH  T     \V  A  TO  I J  . 


scarcely  noticed  these  preparations  at  the  time.  Then  we 
passed  from  the  house,  as  before. 

A  rapid  walk  of  a  few  moments  brought  us  to  the  place 
of  rendezvous.  My  cousin  was  already  there.  His  man- 
ner was  very  serious,  nay  solemn  ;  there  was  no  rapture, 
no  caress;  but  taking  me  by  the  hand,  said  in  a  voice 
equally  impressive,  "  My  love,  will  you  consent  to  place 
yourself  under  my  protection?  Can  you  trust  me?  And 
are  you  willing  to  submit  to  my  guidance?  " 

"  O  my  cousin,  for  life  and  death  !  I  can  not  return 
to  the  arms  of  that  monster  and  live.  I  have  left  my 
home  forever  ! " 

"  Then  we  will  lose  no  time.  Molly,  give  the  signal." 
A  low  whistle  brought  a  carriage  to  the  place.  I  was 
penetrated  with  a  tenfold  love  and  gratitude  on  finding 
that  my  nurse  was  to  accompany  me.  How  considerate, 
how  delicate  was  this  attention.  I  could  only  press  his 
hand,  and  weepingly  tell  him  so.  We  sped  on,  on.  Pres- 
ently we  stopped,  but  only  for  a  moment,  until  fresh 
horses  were  brought.    Then  onward  again. 

About  midnight,  we  arrived  at  a  depot,  but  learned  that 
the  cars  had  been  thrown  from  the  track,  and  we  could 
not  proceed  for  several  hours.  This  was  a  serious  annoy- 
ance to  my  cousin,  but  there  was  no  help.  Therefore  we 
would  rest  during  this  interval  in  the  little  inn  parlor. 

It  was  a  still,  peaceful  hour.  The  moon  shone  gently 
into  the  room.  The  little  piece  of  tallow  candle  allotted 
to  us  by  our  penurious  landlord  had  long  since  burned 
out ;  but  that  stream  of  calm,  beautiful  light  from  heaven, 
that  moonbeam,  revealed  every  object  distinctly  to  view. 
I  was  sleeping,  at  least  I  was  reposing,  I  know  not 
whether  I  was  really  wrapped  in  slumber,  but  I  know 
that  I  Avas  oblivious  of  all  care,  anxiety,  and  fear. 

Suddenly,  there  was  a  commotion  in  the  house,  a  tramp- 
ling of  feet  in  the  hall,  and  suppressed  voices.  The  land- 
lord, holding  a  candle,  entered,  followed  by  live  or  six 


T  H  E     NIGH  T    W  A  TC  U  . 


451 


men.  I  looked  up  and  saw  my  father  and  my  husband. 
The  others  were  coarse,  ruffianly-looking  men,  whom  I 
had  never  seen. 

My  cousin  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  on  this  unceremo- 
nious intrusion  on  the  privacy  of  travelers.  In  an  instant 
I  saw  him  close  with  two  men.  A  fierce  struggle  ensued. 
My  husband  goes  up,  and  aims  a  blow  with  his  open 
palm  on  his  face,  saying,  ';  Dastard  !  Caitiff!  Craven 
churl !  "  Conrad  tore  himself  from  the  grasp  of  three 
stout  men,  and  felled  my  husband  to  the  earth.  In  a 
second,  another  ruffian  had  measured  his  length,  then  the 
remaining  three  closed  with  him.  In  a  short  time  I  heard 
the  report  of  a  pistol,  and  then  I  thought  I  saw  my  cou- 
sin fall.    I  closed  my  eyes. 

"Unmanly,  cowardly  varlets,  unhand  him!"  cried  a 
Stentor-like  voice.  u  How  !  three  men  to  hold  and  bind 
one  gentleman  ?  Unhand  him,  I  say,  or  by  the  eternal 
world  !  your  brains  shall  stain  these  boards.  This  revol- 
ver carries  six  missives  of  death.  Refuse  to  set  him  free, 
and  I  will  pull  this  trigger,  and  this,  and  this,  which  each 
time  will  send  to  hell  a  poltroon,  more  low  and  base  than 
any  there.  Ha  !  ropes !  Aye !  they  were  spun  for  you  — 
for  such  dogs  as  ye  are,  and  not  for  him.  Do  you  hear 
me?  cut  these  thongs." 

He  held  the  terrible  instrument  of  death  aloft,  and  is 
aiming  at  the  head  of  one  of  these  wretched  excuses  for 
men.  He  is  in  the  act  of  firing,  when  Molly  and  the 
carriage-driver  rush  into  the  room  with  sticks,  tongs, 
poker,  etc.  She  called  out,  "  Don't,  dont  shoot !  Mas'r 
Walter  Jocelyn,  don't  shoot !  Bless  God !  there  is 
trouble  enough  in  the  world  a'ready,  'thout  killing  'em 
quite !  " 

By  this  time  they  had  released  Conrad.  My  father  has 
hold  of  me.  I  open  my  eyes  —  God  help  me!  My  hus- 
band has  gotten  up.  Another  pistol  is  fired.  I  hear  a 
suppressed  groan.    I  hear,  see,  feel,  no  more  


452 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


When  I  recovered  from  my  swoon,  I  found  myself  lying 
on  a  little  lounge,  in  a  low,  gloomy  room.  I  am  quite 
alone.  There  is  not  one  familiar  object  on  which  my 
eye  falls.  The  impulse  is  to  shriek  out  for  help,  for  I 
am  almost  dying  of  thirst. 

Presently  my  father  enters  with  refreshments,  water, 
ice-lemonade,  etc.  After  I  have  drunk,  he  sits  down  by 
me,  and  takes  my  hand.  "  Marianna,  wretched,  wretched 
child  !  with  all  your  soul-destroying  sins,  I  am  sorry  for 
you  !  But  you  have  entailed  disgrace  on  yourself  and 
family  forever.  You  have  sinned,  I  fear,  beyond  redemp- 
tion !  Ton  need  never  pray  more !  I  will  send  father 
Anselmo  to  you.  Then  unburden  your  crime-stained 
conscience  to  him,  and  ask  his  intercession  with  the 
mother  of  Christ,  for  the  remission  of  your  sins." 

"  Hold !  sir.  You  do  surely  rave.  You  know  not 
what  you  say.  It  was  not  thus  the  immaculate  Jesus 
talked  to  sinners.  He  did  not  employ  such  language 
even  to  the  woman  who  was  brought  to  him  in  the 
Temple." 

"  Hardened  wanton  !  There  is  nothing  on  record  in 
that  Xew  Testament,  of  any  such  crime  as  yours.  Poor 
wretch  !  " 

"  Then,  what  is  it,  sir?  With  what  do  you  charge  me 
that  you  do  not  yourself  do  almost  daily?" 

"Miserable  creature!  Then  are  you  so  steeped  in  sin? 
From  your  cradle,  your  propensities  have  run  in  that 
same  channel.  I  have  warned  you  —  I  have  separated 
you  —  I  have  watched  you  night  and  day  —  done  all  that 
a  mortal  man  could  do  to  save  you  from  this  ghastly 
crime." 

"  My  father  !  !STow  I  know  that  you  are  mad  !  Think 
of  your  own  dalliance  —  your  long-standing  intrigue  with 
Mrs.  Murray,  to  the  total  neglect  of  my  weak,  unoffend- 
ing mother.  You  know  I  have  committed  no  such 
crime." 


THE     NIGHT    W ATC H  . 


453 


"  O  God !  this  is  too  dreadful ;  I  must  not  listen  to 
her,"  said  he,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  seem- 
ing to  weep. 

"What  is  it  then,  sir?  what  is  it  you  think  I  have 
done  ?  tell  me  at  once,  torture  me  no  longer  with  sus- 
pense." 

"  Know,  then,  wretched,  lost  girl,  that  you  have  the 
crime  of  incest  on  your  soul." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet.  "  How?  how  is  this?"  shrieked 
I ;  "  by  heavens  !  I  will  not  hear  my  chaste  and  innocent 
mother  slandered.  It  is  false  !  false  as  hell !  where  only 
such  a  horrible  idea  could  have  originated.  I  am  your 
daughter,  sir.    Would  to  Clod!  I  were  not." 

"  Yes,  you  are  my  daughter,  Marianna  Glencoe.  You 
are  indeed  my  daughter,  and  I  echo  your  own  words- 
would  to  God!  you  were  not!"  Then  he  passed  his 
hand  over  his  face,  and  looking  at  me  fixedly,  with  a 
mournful,  despairing  look,  said,  "And  HE  is  my  SON  f 
Thus  you  have  the  dreadful  sin  of  incest  on  your  soul." 

I  fell  with  my  face  on  the  floor  (which  was  of  brick), 
and  the  blood  gushed  from  my  nose  and  mouth.  He 
attempted  to  raise  me.  I  shrieked  out,  and  recoiled 
from  his  touch.  As  often  as  he  approached  me,  I  uttered 
piercing  screams,  and  signed  him  away.  I  prayed  now 
for  insanity.  I  implored  God  to  send  his  thunderbolts 
and  destroy  me  ;  and  if  not  so,  then  to  destroy  my  mem- 
ory. I  know  not  who  comes  or  goes.  I  hear  a  sound  as 
of  the  opening  and  shutting  of  doors.  I  do  not  look  uj). 
I  am  on  my  knees,  with  my  head  bowed  to  the  earth,  my 
forehead  resting  on  the  bare  bricks. 

Father  Anselmo  comes  in.  He  speaks  soothingly  to 
me.  He  does  not  chide  or  abuse.  He  bids  me  look  up 
and  hope.  I  cry  out,  "I  can  not!  I  dare  not!  my  father 
says  I  have  committed  an  unpardonable  sin !  " 

"  'Not  so,  my  child ;  you  can  repent.  Confess,  and  then 
repent." 


454 


T  H  E     N  1  ( I  H  T    W  A  T  C  H 


"  Too  late!  too  late!  I  am  lost!  lost!  lost!   

But,  father,  I  was  tempted  beyond  human  strength, 
unaided,  to  resist.  I  was  goaded  on  by  wrongs,  railings, 
false  accusations,  and  at  last,  violence.  I  have  received 
many  indignities,  and  even  blows.  I  have  been  driven 
from  one  step  to  another,  from  one  fault  to  another,  with- 
out any  solace ;  and  getting  to  loathe  the  author  of  these 
troubles,  I,  at  last,  took  refuge  in  that  manly  bosom.  O 
father,  if  you  but  knew  him,  as  I  do  !  So  noble,  so  exalted, 
so  handsome,  and  "  

"  Hush,  daughter  !  breathe  not  another  word  in  that 
strain.  I  came  here  to  meet  you  at  the  confessional,  and 
to  make  what  intercession  I  can  with  God  !  through  our 
Mother  and  her  blessed  Son." 

Then  I  knelt  before  that  holy  father,  that  man  of  God ; 
I  confessed  my  sins  of  omission,  and  commission  ;  I  laid 
bare  my  most  secret  thoughts  to  the  scrutiny  of  his  dis- 
cerning mind.  I  threw  open  the  portals  of  my  heart. 
He  is  made  acquainted  with  every  thought,  desire,  and 
emotion  which  had  actuated  me  throughout. 

When  I  had  finished,  he  shook  his  head,  and  I  shrieked 
out,  rising  from  my  knees,  "  Do  you,  too,  say,  knowing 
all,  that  I'm  lost  ?  " 

"  Far  from  it !  Poor  dove !  the  hawks  have  pursued 
and  driven  thee  into  the  only  shelter  open  to  thy  weary 
stricken  wing.  It  was  thy  refuge ;  God  takes  cognizance 
of  the  necessities  of  his  children." 

I  fell  again  on  my  knees,  seized  his  hands,  and  repeated 
with  great  enthusiasm,  "And  He  will  bless  thee!  thou 
gentle  vicegerent  of  the  meek  and  lowly  child  Jesus." 

We  heard  distinctly  a  low  cough,  and,  in  an  instant, 
Father  Anselmo's  manner  changed.  He  did  not  look 
alarmed,  but  disconcerted. 

"  Daughter,  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  every 
sin.    But  you  must  do  penance." 

"  Impose  it.  father ;  I  am  ready  for  all  things,  even  death." 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


455 


"  We  do  not  arrogate  to  ourselves  the  right  either  to  give 
or  take  life.  We  impose  a  penance  on  the  body  to  save 
the  soul,  but  we  wish  to  preserve  it  alive." 

"  Go  on,  father,"  said  I,  still  on  my  knees.  "  I  am  wait- 
ing to  hear  my  doom." 

"  Well,  daughter,  we  wish  you  to  go  through  the  most 
solemn  adjuration  (my  father  enters  at  this  moment)  that 
you  will  never  look  upon,  or  permit  him  to  look  upon 
your  face ;  that  you  will  not  speak  to,  write,  or  receive 
letters  from,  or  in  any  way  hold  intercourse  and  com- 
munication with  your  BEOTHEE." 

At  that  word,  I  uttered  a  piercing  cry,  and  fell  with 
my  face  again  on  the  bricks.  After  a  while,  he  raised 
my  head  very  gently,  and  then  went  on  :  "  You  will  return 
to  your  husband.  You  will,  hy  every  dutiful  attention 
and  humble  obedience,  make  atonement  for  this  false  step. 
Will  you  swear  to  perform  these  duties,  kissing  the  Holy 
Bible?" 

"No,  no!  a  thousand  times  no  !"  said  I,  springing  to 
my  feet.  "  I  will  never  again  live  with  John  Glencoe  as 
his  wife.  I  will  not  do  such  violence  to  all  honesty  and 
truth.  I  will  not  again  be  tempted  to  desecrate  sacred 
things.  I  will  not  outrage  my  own  nature  so  much. 
Never  can  I  be  convinced  that  it  is  my  duty  to  maintain 
a  relation  with  any  man  or  woman,  the  existence  of  which 
makes  me  a  loathing  to  myself — so  fills  me  with  cold 
despair,  that  I  can  not  even  pray  to  God  —  so  takes  away 
all  self-respect,  that  I  am  fain  to  cower  in  the  presence 
of  my  more  fortunate  sisters,  as  a  thing  defiled,  and  to 
cry  like  the  leper,  4  Unclean !  unclean  V  "  He  com- 
menced a  remonstrance. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  I,  "  this  is  needless  ;  I  can  not  be  turned." 

"  She  says  truly,"  added  my  father.  u  That  is  impossi- 
ble ;  I  know  it  to  my  sorrow.  You  may  break  her  spirit, 
but  you  can  never  bend  her  will.  Administer  the  first 
part  of  the  adjuration." 


456 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


This  was  now  done,  with  a  great  show  of  solemnity.  I 
was  then  made  to  kiss  the  sacred  volume,  and  to  put  my 
name  to  the  instrument  of  writing.  He  (the  priest)  went 
through  a  form  of  prayer,  and  I  was  left  alone.  I  got  up 
from  my  knees,  and  commenced  pacing  round  and  round 
the  room.  I  caught  myself  saying,  "  Brother !  Dear 
brother  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Come  !  we  '11  travel  on.  Aye  ! 
Yes,  so  merrily  round  and  round."  Then  the  feeling  came 
on  me  to  flee  away  —  I  wanted  space  —  I  wanted  air  —  I 
wanted  to  shout ;  and  I  did  cry  out,  "  Brother !  brother  !  " 
Then  the  room  swam  round  and  round. 


THE    NIGH  T  WATCH. 


457 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE    JOURNAL  —  THE    MANIAC  MOTHER. 

44  She  looked  on  many  a  face  with  vacant  eye, 
On  many  a  token  without  knowing  why." 

44  Then  fresh  tears  stood  on  her  cheeks,  as  doth  the  honey-dew 
Upon  the  gathered  lily  almost  withered/7 

"Nurse,"  said  the  doctor,  "raise  her  head,  and  let  us 
pour  down  a  little  of  this  gruel.  Poor  thing!  would  that 
I  could  relieve  her.  Would  that  one  raj  of  reason  would 
beam  from  those  gentle,  plaintive,  deep,  dark-blue  eyes. 
I  sometimes  think  she  understands  me."  Then,  agreeable 
to  the  long-established  custom  of  the  place,  I  call  in  Dr. 
Severe,  and  the  poor  creature  hides  her  face  and  becomes 
so  terrified  and  shrieks  out  so  fearfully,  that  I  believe  what 
little  dawming  of  light  there  might  be,  is  scared  away. 
After  that,  she  sinks  into  the  same  lethargic  state." 

"  No  wonder,"  says  the  woman.  "  Poor  dove  !  how  can 
she  help  it,  when  he  is  so  cross?  Then  Dr.  Stern  and 
old  Mrs.  Hardheart  — the  three  are  enough  to  squeeze  or 
scare  the  soul  out  of  anybody's  body,  with  their  strait- 
jacket  and  sour  looks." 

"  Is  the  poor  bird  asleep  now  ?  "  said  the  humane  doctor. 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  Myra  !  Myra  !  "  I  would  not  open 
my  eyes,  because  I  wanted  to  hear  more.  I  had  only 
heard  enough  to  mystify  me.     The  woman  continued  : 

"  It  is  strange  that  we  have  never  heard  from  the 
old  man  since  he  brought  her  here.  What  a  bad  coun- 
tenance he  had ;  that  old  Jew !  How  he  grinned  and 
smirked  around  the  poor  demented  creature  !  He  looked 
better  sometimes  ;  and  I  thought  a  gleam  of  pity  was 
39 


458 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


about  to  break  out  on  that  old  wrinkled-up,  parchment 
face  ;  then  that  hideous  leer  and  libidinous  grin  would 
supersede  every  other  human  expression." 

"  Strange  that  none  ever  came  to  inquire  about  her," 
said  the  woman. 

•  "  Martha,  don't  you  think  she  is  very  beautiful  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  she  had  any  sense,  and  a  little  bit  of  light  in 
her  eyes." 

"  I  think,  without  doubt,  she  is  the  most  beautiful 
woman  I  ever  beheld.  Her  features  are  faultless;  but, 
as  you  say,  she  lacks  the  soul  peeping  from  the  windows 
of  that  perfect  piece  of  workmanship,"  he  rejoined. 

"  Do  they  still  send  the  remittance,  by  which  softening 
influence  the  horrors  of  this  purgatory  are  somewhat 
mitigated?" 

"  Punctually,  up  to  last  quarter.  They  are  in  arrears 
for  that." 

"Then  God  help  the  poor  soul,  say  I.  How  long  has 
she  been  here  ?" 

"  Two  years  and  a  half.  Nay,  more ;  in  three  months 
it  will  have  been  three  years  since  she  came.  The  child 
will  be"  

I  started  up  wildly,  and  so  suddenly  that  they  were 
alarmed.  u  "What !  What  do  I  hear?  Then  it  was  not  all 
a  dream?" 

I  would  have  gone  on  to  say  much  more,  but  the  phy- 
sician of  whom  they  had  spoken  entered  at  that  moment. 
He  came  up  to  the  bedside,  and  scowling  on  me  from 
under  those  dark,  shaggy  brows,  said  in  a  sort  of  growl, 
"What's  all  this?  What's  this  uproar  about?"  I  gave 
him  one  startled,  timid  look,  and  began  to  shriek  at  the 
top  of  my  voice.  He  grew  angry.  He  was  (as  I  after- 
ward learned)  morbidly  sensitive  about  his  personal 
appearance.  To  me  he  was  hideously  ugly.  In  my  poor 
benighted  mind  I  associated  him  with  my  own  sorrows ; 
and  with  crime,  treachery,  and  despotism  generally.  The 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


459 


mere  sight  of  him,  as  the  good  Doctor  Goodwin  had  said, 
never  failed  to  put  out  every  glimmer  of  dawning  light 
in  my  mind.  This  time  I  retained  some  of  my  faculties, 
and  heard  him  say  in  the  same  low  voice,  between  a  hiss 
and  a  growl,  u  I  wish  I  wTere  rid  of  her.  I'm  heartily 
tired  of  such  scenes.  I  wonder  why  an  all-wise  Provi- 
dence suffers  such  a  poor,  troublesome  thing  to  live.  John 
you  must  exercise  more  rigor.  I  always  notice,  when  you 
and  Martha  have  charge  of  this  ward,  that  you  spoil  her 
by  indulgence.  Then  when  I  come  in,  and  look  at  her 
only,  she  yells  out  in  that  way — just  like  a  trifling  house- 
dog, whose  tail  has  been  trodden  on.  To-morrow  you 
must  exchange  w^ith  Doctor  Stern,  and  old  Mrs.  Hard- 
heart.  They  will  bring  her  to  her  good  behavior.  In 
the  meantime  put  on  the  strait-jacket ;  and  let  her  regi- 
men be  a  crust  and  a  glass  of  water  a  day.  I  shall  call  at 
eight  o'clock  to-night,  to  see  that  you  have  properly 
obeyed  my  instructions." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  "  if  when  you  come  she 
meets  that  piercing  glance  with  which  you  are  enabled  to 
quell  the  maniacs,  will  you  not  then  relax  your  treat- 
ment?" 

K  Oh,  of  course.  For  forty  years,  I  have  ruled  the 
subjects  of  a  lunatic  asylum  by  a  glance  of  my  eye,  and 
in  no  instance  did  I  ever  fail  to  silence  yelling  save  in 
this  one.  Hers  commences  where  theirs  ends."  He  gave 
some  other  directions  to  the  subordinates,  and  then  left. 

I  lay  with  my  eyes  shut,  still  and  silent  as  if  I  were 
dead ;  this  state  always  succeeded  to  the  excited  one. 
The  young  man  now  sat  down  by  me,  felt  my  pulse,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  my  heart. 

"  Martha,  have  you  ever  known  this  poor  lady  to 
weep  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  never.  I  have  sometimes  thought  she  looked 
pitiful-like  when  I  would  steal  in  here  between  times  to 
bathe  her  head  and  loosen  that  jacket,  as  if  she  wanted 


460 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


to  cry,  only  her  eyes  were  so  dry  they  wouldn't  furnish 
tears.  Oh  !  I  had  forgotten !  That  invention  of  the 
fiends  must  be  used.  I  dread  to  do  it ;  I  would  rather  be 
put  into  it  myself  than  again  to  bind  it  on  those  slender, 
polished  limbs.  But  I  must  obey  old  Merciless,  else 
would  he  have  us  whisked  out  of  our  places  in  no  time." 

Then  they  crept  quietly  from  the  room.  I  was  left 
alone,  and  I  could  now  think  a  little.  I  could  recall  some 
events ;  but  I  could  yet  understand  nothing  beyond  that 
I  was  in  a  madhouse.  All  else  seemed  dim  and  shadowy. 
I  remembered  nothing  clearly.  I  had  a  vivid  impression 
of  an  accumulation  of  horrors.  My  sore,  tired  limbs 
could  attest  to  cruelty  of  treatment.  My  bloodless,  atten- 
uated hands  and  arms  revealed  a  tale  of  hard  usage, 
meager  fare,  and  sickness. 

I  lay  there  and  thought.  I  tried  so  hard  to  comprehend, 
while  I  explored  the  darkened  chambers  of  memory ;  but 
alas  !  its  stores  were  locked  up.  They  spoke  of  a  child  ! 
Wl'iat  was  it?  I  felt  a  thrill  of  strange  and  mingled  emo- 
tions, new  to  me.  Ah  !  yes,  new,  or  if  not  new,  then  so 
long  ago  felt,  that  I  have  forgotten  what  they  are.  Is  it 
delight  I  feel  ?  Is  it  gladness  ?  O  my  G-od  !  what  is  it  ? 
My  heart  beats  so  quickly  and  loudly  that  I  think  one 
without  the  door  might  hear  it.  Child  !  did  they  say?  I 
remember  something  about  a  little,  soft  wail,  a  tiny  voice. 
O  my  Father  in  heaven!  Now  it  is  going;  I  feel  my 
mind  receding  ;  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  I  lay  a  long  time 
quite  still,  struggling  with  recollection.  I  felt  weary  and 
sleepy,  but  I  feared  to  close  my  eyes,  lest  oblivion  should 
come  over  me,  and  I  should  never  be  able  again  to  call 
up  that  tiny,  shadowy  face,  and  that  low,  breeze-like, 
wailing  voice. 

The  key  grates  harshly  in  the  door ;  I  look  up  and  see 
the  humane  Doctor  Goodwin,  and  meet  the  compassion- 
ate eye  of  the  good  Martha. 

I  sat  up  in  my  bed  and  said,  £C  Come  here,  and  tell  me 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  461 

all  about  it.  Now  don't  cross  me,  or  say  a  word  that  will 
be  hard  to  understand."  I  saw  them  exchange  pleased 
looks  of  surprise.  "  In  the  first  place,  can  you  keep  that 
dreadful  old  man  away?  If  he  comes  back,  it  will  all  be 
put  out  again,  like  a  candle  blown  upon  by  the  breath. 
Then  I  know  not  that  your  gentle  voice  and  kind  hand 
can  relume  the  spark." 

"Dear  lady,"  said  he,  "I  am  so  delighted  to  hear  you 
talk  thus,  that  I  can  scarce  refrain  from  shouting  for  joy." 
And  the  tender-hearted  young  man  took  out  his  hand- 
kerchief and  wiped  his  eyes. 

"  Ah !  "  said  I,  "  tears  !  tears  !  Would  that  I  could  weep 
too.  As  dew  is  to  the  withered  flower,  so  are  tears  to 
the  parched  and  dried  heart.  I  used  to  weep  a  great 
deal,  shed  many  tears  ;  but  they  w7ere  forced  back  to  their 
fountain,  where  they  congealed,  and  now  they  are  consol- 
idated, and  have  formed  a  wall  round  about  my  heart, 
which  is  stone.  Yes  indeed,  my  heart,  this  heart  which 
was  so  tender  and  loving,  and  so  easily  moved,  is  now  all 
marble." 

"Can  you  not  tell  us  of  the  things  which  used  to  make 
you  weep  ?  " 

"  Ah  no  !  there  is  no  feeling  or  memory  left.  All  has 
been  crushed  out;  that  horrible  engine  of  torture  which 
you  hold  in  your  hand  (and  a  sharp  shudder  passed 
through  my  frame),  has  left  nothing." 

"  We  will  never  use  this  again,"  said  he,  throwing  it 
across  the  room.  "  Come,  tell  us  of  your  joys  and  sor- 
rows, before  you  came  here." 

"Before  I  came  here?  Have  I  not  been  here  always? 
Is  not  my  being  here  coeval  with  time?  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  sorrowfully,  u  she  wanders  again.  I 
am  so  disappointed." 

I  lay  for  some  time  quite  still.  Then  I  passed  my 
hands  over  my  face.    "  I  am  not  so  wrong  here  as  you 


462 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


think,"  said  I,  touching  my  forehead.  "  But  my  memory 
is  so  bad.    That's  all." 

"Well,  Martha,  I  believe  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth 

in  that." 

He  then  proceeded  to  ask  me  several  numbers  in  the 
multiplication  table.  He  propounded  some  other  simple 
questions  in  mental  arithmetic.  Finally,  he  gave  me  a 
book,  which  I  read  without  effort.  He  then  asked  me 
the  subject  of  what  I  had  read.  I  did  not  know.  He 
looked  distressed.  Seeing  this,  I  told  him  I  had  not  been 
thinking  of  it,  else  I  would  have  known.  But  when  he 
would  have  proposed  another  page,  I  pushed  the  volume 
away,  saying,  "  You  want  me  to  do  too  much  at  first. 
You  see  I  am  now  like  a  little  child."  And  I  closed  my 
eyes. 

They  seemed  to  think  I  slept,  for  they  commenced  talk- 
ing without  reserve.  "  I  thought,  Martha,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "  that  we  wrere  about  to  be  rewarded  for  our  long  and 
weary  vigils ;  but  now  I  fear  there  is  no  hope  of  a  perma- 
nent restoration.  Her  intellect  became  clouded  again.  s  I 
saw  it  while  she  spoke." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Martha.  "  I  think  she 
wearied,  and  her  memory  refused  to  aid  her,  and  this 
caused  perplexity.  If  we  could  only  get  her  to  weep, 
then  all  would  come  right." 

I  opened  my  eyes,  and  in  an  instant  he  darted  a  keen 
and  searching  glance  into  them.  I  smiled,  and  asked, 
"  Can  you  read  it?  Can  you  read  the  one  idea  which  per- 
vades my  poor  benighted  mind?  " 

"  No  ;  what  is  it  ?  I  see  there  is  something  new,  because 
you  smile.  I  have  never  seen  such  a  soft,  bland,  genial 
smile  in  this  house  before." 

I  raised  myself,  and  placing  my  head  on  my  hand,  said, 
"  You  wish  me  to  w7eep.  I  heard  you  say  so.  Well,  I 
could  have  wept  an  hour  ago  :  I  could  weep  now,  would 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  463 

you  but  tell  me  "  and  I  caught  his  hand  and  pressed 

it  with  energy. 

"  Be  composed  j  just  quiet  yourself,  dear  lady,  and  I 
will  tell  you  everything  on  God's  earth  you  may  choose 
to  ask  me."  Martha  now  gave  me  something  mixed  in  a 
glass,  which  helped  to  quiet  me,  and  I  proceeded. 

"  I  heard  you  speak  of  a  little  child,  a  babe,  and  I  have 
some  vague  idea  of  the  presence  of  one  at  some  time  or 
other.  Tell  me  about  it.  Do  not  fear  that  it  will  excite 
me.  It  is  the  struggle  to  recollect,  and  the  hard,  unyield- 
ing memory  which  distracts  me.  If  you  can  save  me 
this  conflict,  I  shall  soon  recover  health,  both  of  body  and 
mind." 

ki  Well,  lie  down  quietly,  and  we  will  answer  your  ques- 
tions.   ISTow  commence." 

"  Of  what  child  did  you  speak?  Tell  me  this,  first  of 
all." 

"Now,  you  are  springing  up  again,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  It  is  your  child,"  rejoined  Martha,  no  longer  able  to 
keep  silence,  while  the  doctor  held  me  down  with  a  gentle 
force.  k£  It  is  your  own  dear  little  boy,  and  the  beauti- 
fulest  little  cretur  that  ever  your  eyes  ever  rested  upon, 
I  know." 

"Mine?  My  child?  Oh  yes!  I  remember.  Go  on," 
cried  I. 

"  He  is  over  two  years  old  now,  and  "  

"  Where  is  he?    Oh  !  I  thought  so.    This  pining —  this 

inappeasable  yearning  of  my  soul  —  I  thought  there  was 

a  cause  for  it.    Shall  I  ever  see  him?    Why  is  he  not  left 

with  his  mother?  " 

H  Oh  you  were  sick,  and  we  thought  it  better  to  put 

him  out  to  nurse.    We  were  afraid  you  would  kill  him." 

I  saw  Dr.  Goodwin  look  quickly  up  at  her.    "  We  were 

afraid  you  would  love  him  to  death,  and  kill  him  with 

kindness." 


464 


T  HE     NIGH  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


u  But  I  will  not  be  so  bad,  now.  Just  let  me  see  him, 
dear  good  friends !  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,  if,  when  Dr.  Severe  comes  you  w^ill  not  hide  your 
face,  and  shriek  out  as  if  you  saw  old  Sooty,  and  beheld 
his  cloven  foot.    You  excite  his  ire  by  doing  this." 

"  When  will  he  come  again  ? 

"  Immediately ;  I  think  as  soon  as  T  inform  him  of 
your  improved  condition,  he  will  come  in  to  see  if  I  have 
reported  truly." 

They  then  went  out,  and  I  closed  my  eyes,  that  I  could 
the  better  enjoy  the  beautiful  day  dream  of  a  bright  little 
boy,  two  years  old,  or  more.  I  did  not  observe  that  they 
had  returned  to  the  cell,  until  that  coarse,  growling  voice 
sounded ;  then  I  started  ivp,  opened  my  eyes,  and  a  sharp 
shudder  passed  through  my  frame,  but  I  did  not  scream 
out.  I  subdued  this  impulse,  and  now  I  could  look  at 
him,  and  reply  to  his  questions,  without  evidencing  hor- 
ror.   He  called  me  by  a  strange  name. 

"  Mrs.  Wise,  how  do  you  feel,  now  ?  "  and  he  also  darted 
his  keen  glances  into  my  eyes. 

I  did  not  quail  this  time,  but  met  the  look  calmly. 
Then  taking  his  hand,  I  said  :  "  I  fear,  doctor,  I  am,  and 
have  been,  for  a  long  time,  very  troublesome.  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  me.  I  am  grateful  for  whatever  kind- 
ness you  have  shown  me." 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it,  madam  ;  "  and  he  fidgeted  about 
in  his  chair.  He  then,  again,  peered  keenly  into  my 
eyes,  as  he  continued  to  speak.  "  Now,  would  you  like 
to  have  something  good  and  nice  to  eat?  " 

I  was  about  to  decline,  but  receiving  the  sign  from 
Dr.  Goodwin,  I  said,  "  Yes." 

The  old  doctor  gave  a  low,  chuckling  sort  of  laugh,  as 
he  added, 

"  Well !  this  is  the  only  sensible  word  I  have  ever  heard 
her  utter.    In  three  whole  years  she  has  never  spoken  to 


T  U  E     N  J  Q  H  T    W  A  T  C  H 


465 


the  point  before.  John  order  whatever  she  fancies,  and  put 
away  that  thing  there,"  pointing  to  the  strait-jacket.  u  We 
will  have  no  further  use  for  it  in  this  cell,"  and  he  left. 

"  You  have  played  your  part  admirably,"  said  the 
humane  doctor.  u  As  soon  as  you  have  eaten,  I  will 
bring  the  little  Clarence." 

In  a  short  time,  a  nice  broiled  bird,  a  biscuit,  and  a 
glass  of  wine  were  placed  before  me ;  then  they  went  to 
bring  my  child.  I  thought  of  getting  up  and  making  an 
elaborate  toilet  to  receive  the  little  stranger;  but  on  look- 
ing round, I  saw  nothing  but  the  blank  walls,  the  cot  I  lay 
on,  and  a  shower-bath  — not  so  much  as  a  piece  of  looking- 
glass  as  big  as  my  hand.  I  had  no  wardrobe.  I  wore  a 
coarse  calico  blouse.  When  I  put  my  hand  to  my  head,  I 
learned,  for  the  first  time,  that  my  fine  suit  of  hair  had 
been  shorn  off.  I  had  no  idea  of  my  present  appearance  ; 
no  recollection  of  my  former ;  had  not  seen  my  face  for 
years. 

I  hear  footsteps  in  the  corridor,  and  a  sweet  bird- 
like  voice.  I  hear  it  caroling  so  sweetly.  The  door  opens, 
I  spring  to  meet  my  child  with  a  glad  shout.  I  seize  him, 
but  O  God!  he  turns  away  from  his  mother,  and  hides 
his  darling  little  face  on  Martha's  shoulder.  I  cry  out, 
in  anguish,  "  My  Father  in  heaven  !  this  is  more  than 
I  can  bear  !  He  turns  away  loathingly  from  me,  his 
own  mother  !  " 

"  My  good  woman,  you  have  frightened  him,  that's  all," 
said  Martha.    u  He'll  look  up  directly,  and  come  to  you." 

I  drop  down  on  my  bed.  The  Doctor  takes  the  child 
and  walks  across  the  room  several  times,  talking  sooth- 
ingly to  him ;  then  sits  down  by  me,  and  says,  "  ISTow, 
Clarence,  go  to  mamma." 

The  bright,  glorious  creature,  looks  up.  I  hold  out  my 
hands  timidly  ;  he  meets  them  with  his  own  tiny  fingers; 
then  bounds  into  my  arms.  I  fold  him  to  my  breast,  I 
cover  his  face  with  kisses;  he  places  his  little  hands  on 


466  THE    NIGHT    WATCH  . 

my  cheeks,  and  looks,  baby  as  he  is,  inquiringly  into  my 
eyes,  and  then  puts  his  head  down  lovingly  on  my  neck ; 
I  feel  as  if  my  pent-up  feelings,  my  full  soul,  would  kill 
me,  that  I  should  die  of  excessive  happiness.  But  with 
this  feeling,  I  experienced  the  intensest  pain.  So  great 
was  the  tension,  that  one  more  strain,  and  the  chord  of 
life  had  snapped. 

But  God  put  one  word  into  the  mouth  of  that  child — 
the  first  one  his  sweet  lips  had  ever  lisped — and  it  saved 
me.  "  Mamma,"  said  the  cherub,  laying  his  little  cheek 
to  mine. 

Then  I  burst  into  tears.  Oh  !  how  refreshing,  how 
revivifying,  were  those  drops !  delicious  tears  !  exquisite 
emotions  !  I  wept  long.  I  pressed  the  child  to  my 
withered  heart,  and  I  could  feel  verdure  spring  up  under 
it.  Those  tears — the  renovation  of  hope — with  that  life- 
giving  little  form,  had  wrought  a  miracle.  With  that 
moment  my  present  existence  commenced,  my  mind 
began  to  expand  and  receive  impressions,  to  conceive  and 
mature  ideas.  Memory  a  little  more  obdurate  ;  was  now, 
too,  unfolding  her  portals.  My  nerves  were  newly  strung. 
In  fact,  my  whole  system,  mental  and  corporeal,  was 
undergoing,  and  subject  to,  a  marvelous  sanatory  influ- 
ence. 

Then  I  had  the  child  with  me  all  the  time,  only  when 
the  kind-hearted  Martha  would  take  him  out  for  exer- 
cise :  still  my  condition — now  that  I  had  the  power  to  see 
the  naked  realities — was  most  dismal.  I  occupied  the 
same  cell,  without  furniture  or  clothes,  save  the  coarse 
change  allotted  to  the  indigent  inmates.  But  finding  me 
so  much  improved,  the  superintendent  is  soon  induced  to 
listen  to  the  suggestions  of  my  friend,  Doctor  Goodwin, 
and  my  condition  is  ameliorated  ;  I  have  better  clothes,  a 
few  articles  of  furniture,  and  some  conveniences.  I  am 
allowed  to  exchange  the  maniac's  cell  for  a  room  larger, 
and  better  ventilated  ;  I  am  also  permitted  to  accompany 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


467 


Martha  and  the  child  in  their  walks.  My  health  is 
restored.  God,  doubtless,  for  his  own  wise  purposes,  and 
I  hope,  for  his  own  glory,  has  given  me  back  my  faculties. 
My  memory  has  at  last  been  aroused  from  its  long  sleep. 
I  am  capable  of  reasoning,  comparing,  and  recalling. 
I  remember  events  of  childhood,  girlhood,  womanhood. 
Have  a  vivid  remembrance  of  joys  and  griefs.  But  I  can 
call  up  nothing  from  the  chaotic,  vasty  deep  of  memory, 
since  the  fearful  scene  in  that  low,  gloomy  room,  with  my 
father  and  the  priest,  father  Anselmo. 

One  day,  when  I  was  wandering  through  the  grove 
with  the  little  Clarence  (he  had  been  named  by  Doctor 
Goodwin  after  himself ;  and  from  regard  to  him,  and  in 
honor  to  his  virtues,  I  let  the  name  remain  ;  I  wished  to 
have  called  him  Conrad,  but  I  forbore  to  speak),  we  were 
joined  by  this  gentleman.  After  the  usual  salutations 
were  over,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  the  privilege  of  answer- 
ing me  a  few  questions,  on  one  or  two  subjects  which 
were  consuming  me.  He  assented.  I  then  inquired  if 
they  had  not  been  informed  of  my  real  name  and  family 
by  the  person  wTho  brought  me  there.  He  said  not;  and 
went  on  to  state,  that  I  came  in  a  close,  private  car- 
riage, with  a  mean,  cringing-looking  old  man,  and  a  little 
negro  girl,  with  very  straight  hair  (remarkable  circum- 
stance for  an  African)  ;  that  I  was  at  the  time  of  my 
arrival,  quite  deranged  —  a  raving  maniac.  There  had 
been  a  sum  of  money  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  keeper, 
which  had  long  since  been  expended  ;  but  from  time  to 
time,  there  were  other  remittances  from  unknown  sources; 

Then  I  told  him  my  history,  from  my  cradle  up,  only 
suppressing  some  of  the  most  painful  facts.  When  I  had 
finished,  he  seemed  again  to  doubt  my  sanity — deeming 
the  fearful  story  to  be  more  like  the  distempered  ebulli- 
tions of  the  lunatic  than  aught  else.  However,  he  was 
too  good-hearted  to  report  me  on  the  sick-list  again. 

Time  drags  on  slowly  in  this  emporium  of  misery.  My 


468 


THE     NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


child  is  now  four  years  old.  Since  my  recovery  I  have 
written  a  great  many  letters  to  my  mother,  father,  young 
Walter,  my  grandmother,  and  even  to  my  nurse  (negro 
as  she  is).  I  received  no  replies.  I  never  did  write  to 
my  husband;  I  never  thought  of  doing  so.  I  felt,  to  be 
one  moment  in  his  presence  would  drive  me  mad  again. 
I  would  have  preferred  any  fate  —  a  pauper's,  an  exile's,  to 
be  sold  into  slavery  even,  anything  —  to  being  claimed  as 
his  wife.  I  would  have  fled  and  perished  in  the  woods, 
rather  than  have  looked  on  his  face  fifteen  minutes,  much 
less  endure  for  years  that  daily  death. 

At  last  Doctor  Goodwin  received  a  letter,  enclosing  a 
large  sum  of  money  for  my  use.  The  author  begs  to  be 
informed  of  the  exact  condition  of  my  health.  Her  sig- 
nature is  simply  Leah.  She  wished  to  be  addressed  by 
that  name  only,  and  the  letter  directed  to  the  care  of  one 
Murdoch. 

When  he  handed  me  this  document  he  gave  me  the 
money  also.  "You  can  take  charge  of  your  own  funds, 
Mrs.  Wise.  I  pronounce  you  to  be,  in  all  things,  capable 
of  thinking  and  acting  for  yourself.  I  would  advise  you, 
though,  to  take  rooms  in  the  1  Boarding-House1  apper- 
taining to  the  Asylum,  and  draw  around  you  such  com- 
forts as  money  can  always  procure.  I  do  not  think,  that 
I  would  let  the  child  come  into  the  Hospital.  His  mind 
might  become  tinctured  with  the  gloomy  horrors  which 
pervade  the  place." 

I  took  his  advice.  Selected  two  large  rooms  and  fur- 
nished them  handsomely,  nay,  magnificently.  Then 
bought  genteel  mourning  clothes  for  myself;  and  was 
guilty  of  the  vanity  of  dressing  my  child  richly.  I  pro- 
cured the  finest  and  most  costly  material,  and  had  it  made 
up  in  a  tasteful,  elegant  style.  Long  before  that  sum  of 
money  was  exhausted,  another  supply  came  from  the 
same  source. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


469 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE    JOURNAL.  OLD    FRIENDS    AND  FOES. 

"  I  had  so  fixed  my  heart  upon  her, 
That  wheresoe'er  I  framed  a  scheme  of  life 
For  time  to  come,  she  was  my  only  joy." 

Five  years  and  more  have  now  passed  away.  I  say 
five,  because  I  date  everything  from  the  birth  of  my  child. 
He  is  exquisitely  beautiful,  and  so  much  like  him;  but  I 
must  not  think  of  this.  God  pity  me  !  One  day  I  sat 
dreaming  over  a  book,  as  I  watched  the  mirthful  gambols 
of  my  boy. 

The  servant  entered,  and  said  there  was  an  old  lady 
and  a  young  gentleman  below,  wishing  to  see  me.  I  rang 
for  my  own  servant,  and  giving  the  child  into  her  charge, 
with  a  heart  palpitating  with  fear  and  curiosity,  ran 
down.  Imagine  my  joy  and  astonishment  to  meet  my 
good  Walter  and  my  own  dear  old  grandmother. 

Let  me  not  attempt  a  description  of  the  scene  which 
ensued,  or  of  my  feelings.  I  took  them  up  to  my  rooms, 
and  after  we  had  gazed  at  each  other  in  speechless  rap- 
ture, and  had  indulged  ourselves  in  as  many  incoherent 
exclamations  of  love,  joy,  surprise,  and  indignation  as 
was  needful,  my  grandmother,  who  possessed  great  prac- 
ticality, suggested  the  necessity  of  rest  and  refreshment ; 
after  which,  I  learned  the  following  facts  :  I  found  that 
they  had  never  known  of  my  whereabouts,  in  fact,  of  my 
existence,  until  three  days  before.  My  father,  my  poor, 
misguided  father,  was  dead.  On  his  deathbed  he  revealed 
to  Doctor  Walter  Jocelyn,  then  his  partner,  the  secret  of 
my  existence,  and  my  cruel  incarceration.  He  stated  that 
these  facts  were  known  only  to  himself  and  the  old  Jew 


470 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


who  had  carried  me  off.   That  everybody  thought  me  dead. 

When  Walter  expressed  his  amazement  in  such  strong 
terms  as,  "Why,  sir,  how  can  this  be?  We  saw  her  bier 
by  the  side  of  her  mother's  ;  saw  them  lowered  into  the 
same  grave.  Then  their  obituaries  went  forth  to  the 
world  together.  The  same  proud  monument  consecrates 
the  memory  of  both  mother  and  child;  "  then  the  dying 
man  wrung  his  hands  and  cried  out : 

"  Oh  yes  ;  O  God  !  But  why  dwell  on  it  with  such  tor- 
turing emphasis  and  minuteness?  I  would  give  my  right 
arm,  my  right  eye,  nay  both,  and  go  forth  to  the  darkened 
world  maimed  and  hideous,  with  the  prospect  of  being 
then  cursed  with  long  life,  if  I  had  not  connived  at  that 
diabolical  plot,  that  awful  crime.  I  have  been  a  dupe, 
Walter.  For  years  I  have  been  a  machine  in  the  hands 
of  a  woman,  who  is  at  the  same  time  the  very  worst  and 
greatest,  as  well  as  the  most  seductive  and  wicked  crea- 
ture that  ever  came  from  the  hands  of  a  pure  and  holy 
Creator.  She  is  the  subtlest  schemer,  the  deepest  plotter, 
the  most  alluring  and  selfish  of  women.  I  have  suffered 
myself,  dotard  as  I  was,  to  be  ruled  like  a  child,  or  an  imbe- 
cile man.  She  drew  me  on  sometimes  by  blandishments  ; 
at  other  times,  goaded  me  to  desperation  by  threats  of  ban- 
ishment from  her  presence.  My  infatuation  then  was  so 
great  that  I  could  not  exist  long  away  from  her.  In  this 
way  she  impelled  me  on  to  the  commission  of  those  awful, 
hell-deserving  crimes  toward  my  own  child.  It  was  to  pur- 
chase permission  to  see  her  whenever  I  pleased,  that  I 
consented  to  my  daughter's  being  buried  alive  in  a  mad 
house.  And  afterward,  that  fraud  was  practiced  upon  the 
public,  that  mock  funeral. 

u  It  occurred  in  this  way,  Jocelyn  ;  I  wish  you  to  mark 
my  words,"  said  my  father.  11  Mrs.  Murray  had  employed 
a  miserable  old  Jew  to  poison  this  girl,  so  as  to  have  her 
forever  out  of  the  way  of  her  son.  Well,  this  old  fiend 
was  ready  for  every  crime  for  the  sake  of  compensation, 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


471 


except  to  take  life.  He  was  a  coward  by  nature,  and  as 
superstitious  as  he  was  craven.  He  would  not  murder, 
because  it  was  written  in  the  decalogue,  '  Thou  shait  not 
kill,'  and  his  timid  nature  feared  as  the  acme  of  human 
woe,  a  visitation  from  the  phantom  of  the  murdered  body. 
Therefore,  I  consented  that  he  should  carry  her  off  in 
that  mysterious  way." 

My  father  made  Walter  promise  that  as  soon  as  the 
funeral  was  over,  he  would  set  out  for  this  institution. 
As  there  were  none  left,  but  my  grandmother,  of  all  our 
kindred,  she  came  with  him. 

He  further  stated,  that  my  poor  father  had  been  insol- 
vent for  many  years,  and  was  for  some  time  before  his 
death  reduced  to  very  necessitous  circumstances.  After 
my  supposed  death,  John  (xlencoe  had  withdrawn  en- 
tirely from  him.  "  This,"  said  Walter,  "  seemed  to  be 
an  unceasing  cause  of  heart-burning.  He  continued  to 
cry  to  the  last,  1  Oh  !  I  did  it  for  them  ;  I  did  all  this 
great  amount  of  wickedness  for  them  ;  and  nowthey  have 
both  deserted  me.  That  woman,  for  whom  I  made  these 
sacrifices,  and  forfeited  everything,  sits  at  home  in  regal 
splendor,  while  I  have  not  the  means  to  secure  to  myself 
a  decent  burial.'  Then  he  would  gnash  his  teeth  and 
heap  imprecations  on  his  own  head  and  theirs.  In  this 
frame  of  mind  and  temper  he  died." 

"  Poor  father  !  poor  deluded  man  !  "  cried  I,  and  I  paid 
the  tribute  of  genuine  sorrow  to  his  memory.  I  then 
begged  Walter  to  tell  me  what  transpired  at  the  inn  on 
the  roadside. 

It  seems,  after  I  had  swooned  in  my  father's  arms,  I 
wras  carried  by  Molly  and  placed  in  the  carriage.  Previ- 
ous to  that,  the  reader  will  remember,  there  had  been  a 
shot,  which  in  my  distraction  I  thought  was  fired  by  my 
husband,  and  had  taken  effect  on  my  cousin.  I  even 
believed  I  heard  his  death  groans.  But  not  so  ;  it  was  an 
accidental  shot  which  was  lodged  in  the  shoulder  of  one 


472 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


of  the  ruffians.  My  husband  was  injured  by  a  blow  from 
that  Herculean  hand.  My  cousin  had  also  received  a 
wound  in  the  breast,  from  some  assassin's  knife.  They 
were  unable  to  proceed,  so  were  carried  to  their  rooms. 

Three  days  after,  Conrad  received  a  challenge,  and 
the  parties  met  the  day  following,  with  deadly  intent ; 
Walter  being  my  cousin's  second.  He  stated  that  when 
Murray  took  his  station  on  the  ground,  he  would  have 
furnished  the  finest  study  for  the  artist,  as  the  personifica- 
tion of  cool,  calm  valor.  He  was  very  pale,  and  there  was 
an  undressed  wound  on  his  forehead,  which  was  slightly 
bleeding.  His  left  arm  wras  in  a  sling,  and  he  held  the 
fatal  instrument  in  the  right.  The  ground  was  measured; 
they  were  to  walk  ten  paces,  then  turn  and  fire.  '  Tis 
done  !  Conrad  received  the  shot  of  Mr.  G-lencoe  in  his 
side,  having  discharged  his  own  in  the  air.  He  falls  — 
his  antagonist,  with  his  friends,  hurry  off  the  ground. 

Soon  after,  their  vehicles  were  heard  driving  furiously 
away.  Conrad  was  taken  back  to  the  house.  On  the  way 
he  fainted  several  times  ;  and  during  the  operation  of 
extracting  the  ball,  he  was  extremely  ill.  Six  months  he 
was  confined  to  his  bed  in  that  country  inn.  When  he 
arose  from  his  sick  couch,  his  first  thought,  his  only 
inquiry,  was,  for  his  cousin  Marianna.  When  he  had 
learned  her  fate,  he  paid  one  visit  to  the  pure  white  marble 
slab  on  which  her  name  and  early  passage  to  the  world  of 
spirits  were  recorded.  Seventeen  !  Only  ten  and  seven 
brief  years,  and  that  bright  vision  has  passed  away  !  He 
turned  off,  a  stricken  man.  A  hasty  and  almost  silent 
adieu  to  his  mother — a  few  hurried  leave-takings  —  one 
fervent  embrace  of  his  little  daughter  —  and  he  is  gone. 

Walter  ceased  speaking,  to  gaze  at  me.  My  whole  frame 
was  shaken  by  the  wildest  agitation.  "  (to  on  !  go  on ! 
dear  friend,"  cried  L 

He  resumed,  but  in  an  altered  voice.  "  When  we  hear 
of  him  again,  he  has  joined  the  expedition  to  Mexico* 


THE    N  I  Q  H  T  WATCH. 


473 


Then  we  are  informed  of  his  unparalleled  bravery,  and 
his  promotion  from  grade  to  grade  until  he  reached  that 
of  colonel  at  the  end  of  the  campaign.  He  was  as  much 
honored  and  beloved  for  his  benevolence  and  great 
humanity  toward  his  own  men  and  the  soldiers  gener- 
ally, as  for  his  personal  prowess.  He  had  the  confidence 
and  respect  of  the  officers,  and  was  consulted  and  looked 
up  to  in  the  camp  and  on  the  field. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  war,  he  returned  home.  In  the 
mean  time,  his  mother,  with  the  little  Genevieve,  had 
removed  to  a  distant  city.  Prompted  perhaps  by  caprice, 
or  may  be  by  the  goadings  of  conscience  —  or  more  likely 
by  some  secret  infernal  interest  —  he  joined  her  there. 
Further  than  this,  I  know  nothing,"  said  Walter,  gloomily. 

I  then  inquired  about  my  nurse.  That  good,  upright 
woman  —  the  faithful,  honest  slave  —  the  consistent,  stead- 
fast friend,  Aunt  Molly.  Neither  he  nor  my  grandmother 
knew ;  but  thought  she  had  been  sent  to  some  one  of  John 
Glencoe's  plantations.  She  had  never  been  seen  since 
those  disastrous  times. 

Glencoe  himself  went  abroad ;  but  they  had  recently 
seen  his  name  on  the  list  of  arrivals  in  the  port  of  New 
York. 

Several  days  passed  away  quickly  and  cheerfully.  We 
are  devising  ways  and  means  to  live.  Walter  proposes 
that  we  shall  go  to  some  new  place,  and  all  live  together. 
He  thinks  his  practice  can  be  made  commensurate  to  our 
wants. 

I  accede  to  this,  but  my  dear,  shrewd,  far-seeing  grand- 
mother says  nothing,  but  rocks  herself  with  great  energy. 
We  are  again  alone. 

"  Marianna,"  says  my  grandmother,  "  what  are  you 
thinking  about,  thus  so  heedlessly  to  consent  to  that 
young  man's  proposals  ?  Do  you  want  to  be  principal 
actor  in  another  tragedy?  " 

"  Why,  dear  mother,  you  speak  in  enigmas.  I  thought 
40 


474 


T  H  E     N  I  G  H  T     VV  A  T  C  H 


Walter  Jocelyn  one  of  the  best  and  most  honorable  of 
men." 

"  He  may  be  so.  I  presume  he  is  so,  my  child ;  but 
don't  you  see  that  he  is  madly  in  love  with  you?  " 

"  O  grandma,  this  is  silly  in  you.  I  am  sorry  to 
hear  you,  who  never  talk  nonsense,  say  so.  Think  you 
anybody  could  love  me  after  witnessing  the  past?  No, 
no  !  dear  mother,  you  do  but  flatter  your  child,  and 
wrong  him." 

"  Well,  we  will  see  ere  long.  I  know  more  than  you 
are  aware  of." 

When  he  came  the  next  morning,  instead  of  coming  to 
my  sitting-room,  he  sent  his  name  up,  saying  he  was 
obliged  to  see  me  a  moment  alone  on  business.  When  I 
reached  the  parlor,  I  found  him  sunk  in  r every.  I 
touched  his  arm.  He  rose  in  embarrassment,  blushed 
like  any  school -girl,  and  sitting  down  by  my  side,  took 
my  hand. 

"  Marianna,  you  agreed  to  my  proposal,  did  you  not?  " 
I  answered  in  the  affirmative,  but  told  him  that  my 
grandmother  opposed  it. 

"  She  thinks  that  I  can  not  support  you,  I  suppose?  " 

"  No,  that  is  not  it.  She  thinks  it  will  be  tempting  the 
foul  tongue  of  calumny,  and  wantonly  inviting  gossip 
and  scandal.  She  says  that  we  are  so  young  and  foolish 
that  it  would  not  "  

u  Oh,  I  can  remedy  all  that,"  said  he,  brightening  up, 
while  his  cheeks  are  again  suffused  with  a  modest  blush. 
"  Dear  Marianna,  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first  hour 
we  ever  met ;  and  I  have,  for  many  years,  sought  you 
everywhere,  that  I  might  tell  you  so.  I  now  offer  you 
my  young,  fresh,  loving  heart,  just  to  do  with  as  you 
please.  Will  you,  my  dear  girl,  link  your  fate  with  mine? 
Shall  we  not  then  go  forth,  leaving  all  troubles,  sorrows, 
and  painful  memories  behind,  carve  out  a  new  life,  and 
lay  the  foundation  on  which  your  boy  shall  rear  a  bril- 


T  H  E     N  I  G  H  T     W  A  T  C  H 


475 


liant  superstructure?  Come,  dear  one,  give  yourself  to 
me,  that  I  may  nurture  and  cherish  you  as  a  mother 
would  her  infant." 

"  Great  God  !  "  cried  I,  u  what  do  I  hear?  "  I  drew  my 
hand  from  him  (which  he  had  seized  in  his  enthusiasm), 
and  exclaimed, 

"  O  Walter !  why  did  you  tell  me  this  ?  Why  did  you  not 
let  me  trust  and  confide  in  your  friendship  ?  I  have  faith 
in  that.  But  love!  love!  Oh,  dear  friend!  I  shudder  as  I 
pronounce  the  word  !  It  has  brought  me  all  the  griefs  I 
have  ever  known.  No,  Walter  !  no,  my  friend  !  talk  not 
to  me  of  love!  I  adore  you  as  the  most  perfect  of  friends. 
But  do  not  talk  to  me  of  love,  else  I  shall  lose  my  senses 
again." 

He  rose  from  his  seat,  and  rushed  frantically  across  the 
room,  then  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  After  a  while  he  came  and  sat  down  by 
me,  looking  very  pale  and  melancholy ;  he  gazed  at  me 
fixedly  as  he  said : 

"Marianna,  you  will  never  see  Mm,  perhaps,  again  in 
this  life ;  or  if  you  should  chance  to  meet  him,  he  will  be 
changed.  I  am  told  he  is  addressing  a  very  beautiful 
heiress,  and  I  think  likely  you  will  never  see  him  but  to 
wound  you." 

"  I  do  not  expect  it.  I  pray  God  I  may  never  see  him. 
I  should  deem  it  the  greatest  misfortune  that  could  befall 
me.  Were  he  in  this  room  now,  I  would  not  look  upon 
his  face.    I  could  not  do  so  without  sin." 

"  Then  fly  with  me  ;  let  us  leave  this  country,  which 
has  proven  to  be  only  a  vale  of  tears  to  us  both.  We  will 
seek  some  more  consonant  sphere  of  action;  when  I  will 
make  you  forget  all  your  griefs,  so  tenderly  will  I  watch 
over  you." 

"  Say  not  another  word  ;  never  mention  the  subject 
again,  lest  you  drive  me  from  my  stronghold,  my  last 
hope  and  trust  in  the  friendship  of  man.   Love  is  selfish ! 


476 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


tell  me  not  of  it.  I  now  need  the  noble  disinterestedness 
of  friendship  ;  not  love." 

He  sat  down  opposite  to  me — looked  very  mournfully 
and  strangely  into  my  face  for  several  minutes,  without 
speaking.  I  inquired  the  meaning  of  this  look.  He 
replied  : 

"  May  God  !  help  you,  then,  Marianna  !  you  will  not 
let  me,  and  I  know  not  to  whom  else  you  can  turn  in  this 
awful  exigency." 

I  became  alarmed  and  greatly  agitated,  and  at  last 
cried  out,  "  In  the  name  of  heaven  !  what  is  it?  " 

"  Your  husband  is  at  the  hotel,  in  hot  pursuit  of  you. 
Last  night,  I  was  called  from  my  room  to  visit  a  sick 
traveler.  He  was  in  an  advanced  stage  of  inebriation, 
and  I  was  not  recognized.  In  his  maudlin  garrulousness, 
I  learned  that  by  some  unlucky  chance  he  had  heard  of 
you,  and  is  here  now  to  claim  you." 

I  wras  seized  with  a  panic,  which  almost  deprived  me  of 
life.  Walter  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room,  as  if  regard- 
less of  me.  Presently  I  recovered,  in  some  degree,  and 
seizing  his  hand,  I  groaned  out,  "  O  Walter!  my  last, 
my  only  friend  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  for  the  love  of  Christ, 
advise  me!" 

He  answered  doggedly — still  continuing  his  walk,  "I 
have  already  given  it,  and  you  reject  it.  I  can  offer  no 
other,  because  that  is  the  only  way  of  escape  I  see  open 
to  you." 

"  O  God !  Can  you  think  of  nothing  beyond  your  own 
selfish  gratifications  ?  your  own  private  feelings  and  in- 
terests ?  " 

"I  have  offered  you  the  best  advice  that  I  am  capable 
of  giving.  I  have  told  you  of  the  only  plan  which  sug- 
gests itself  to  me." 

"  Well !  you  can  at  least  tell  me  all  he  said,  I  suppose," 
added  I,  bitterly. 

"It  seems,  immediately  after  his  arrival  at  the  old 


THE     NIG  H T     W ATCH 


477 


place,  he  had  been  informed,  through  some  mysterious 
agency,  that  during  his  absence  you  had  been  an  inmate 
of  this  establishment,  but  that  you  were  now  entirely 
restored,  and  ten  times  more  beautiful  than  ever.  So  he 
has  come  with  carriage  and  horses,  and  a  friend,  to 
prove  your  identity,  and  will  claim  and  take  you  home 
with  him.  This  friend  is  ready  to  swear  to  the  fact  (if 
you  resist),  that  you  were  lawfully  married,  and  never 
divorced.    There  will  be  no  resisting  his  claims.'5 

"  When  will  he  be  here?  " 

"  Just  as  soon  as  he  gets  out  of  bed." 

"Dear  Walter  !  keep  him  there  to-morrow,  just  to-mor- 
row, and  give  me  a  little  time  to  reflect  on  what  you 
have  said." 

"  Will  that  benefit  me  ?  " 

"Ah  !  self,  self  again." 

"  Marianna,  I  am  so  disappointed  !  God  knows  I  desire 
to  do  all  things  right,  and  would  serve  you  with  my  life  ! 
but  I  am  so  cut  down,  that  I  will  not  longer  trust  myself 
to  talk.  Good-by.  I  will  do  as  you  request,  and  will  be 
here  early  to-morrow  morning."  He  took  my  hand,  and 
his  was  as  cold  and  clammy  as  a  dead  man's.  I  looked  up 
at  him  with  astonishment.  He  carried  it  to  his  fore- 
head, which  was  also  covered  with  a  cold  dew. 

I  told  it  all  to  my  grandmother  ;  and  now  her  good 
common  sense,  decision  of  judgment,  and  promptitude  of 
action,  are  invaluable.  She  looked  compassionately  at 
me,  and  said,  "Well,  Marianna,  the  way  is  very  plain  to 
me;  we  must  fly — fly  as  much  from  that  hot-headed  fool, 
Walter,  as  from  G-lencoe.  I  saw  the  moment  he  laid  his 
eyes  on  you,  how  it  would  be.  But  there  is  no  time  to 
talk,  we  must  act.  Did  you  tell  me  Doctor  Goodwin  was 
your  friend  ?  "    I  nodded  assent. 

"  Then  send  for  him  at  once." 

When  he  came,  we  told  him  our  distressed  situation. 
He  replied,  "  I  was  on  my  way  to  you,  when  I  got  your 


478  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

message.  I  have  this  moment  returned  from  the  hotel. 
Mr.  Glencoe  has  seen  old  Doctor  Severe,  who  is  entirely 
bought  over  to  his  interest.  I  am  ordered  to  make  the 
necessary  arrangements  ;  the  forms  are  all  settled,  and 
to-morrow  morning  you  are  to  be  yielded  up  to  a  besot- 
ted, almost  idiotic,  husband.  I  am  shocked,  and  deeply 
pained,  by  this  outrage." 

u  Then  you  will  help  us  ?"  cried  I.  "We  must  leave 
here  to-night.    Can  you  lend  us  your  aid  ?  " 

"  God  knows,  madam,  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world. 
I  would  most  willingly  conduct  you  to  any  place  of  safety 
that  you  might  suggest;  but  were  I  to  leave  here,  it  would 
doubtless  lead  to  your  discovery.  I  should  be  hunted,  the 
hue  and  cry  would  go  out ;  and  my  presence,  however 
pure  my  motives,  would  retard  your  progress.  But  there 
will  be  no  difficulty  in  leaving  the  place." 

So  that  night,  under  cover  of  a  darkened  sky,  we 
departed.  My  property  of  furniture,  books,  etc.,  was  left 
behind.  I  thought  of  nothing  but  the  importance  of 
escape.  We  traveled  in  the  night  train  :  the  next  night 
saw  us  many  miles  away.  The  day  after,  we  continued 
our  flight. 

At  last  we  became  exhausted.  My  grandmother  and 
the  child  grew  sick ;  but  the  hope  of  being  removed 
beyond  Ms  reach,  sustained  me.  So  we  stopped  at  the 
Eailroad  House,  in  this  city.  We  had  no  means  to  pur- 
sue our  journey  further;  and  our  first  troubles  was  a  dun 
from  the  landlord.  Finding  our  purses  incommensurate 
to  the  exorbitant  demand,  he  one  day  informed  me  that 
"  he  wanted  his  room." 

My  grandmother  was  always  a  great  reader  of  the 
News.  In  one  of  the  daily  papers,  she  saw  those  cheap 
places  advertised.  She  immediately  went  out  and  engaged 
the  hovel. 

And  now,  clear  Minny,  I  have  given  you  a  faithful 
sketch  of  my  past  life.  I  have  told  you  the  truth ;  nothing 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


479 


extenuating  for  myself,  or  aught  set  down  in  malice 
against  others.  If — now  that  you  have  heard  the  secret 
cause  of  this  grief,  this  corroding  sorrow  —  you  can  still 
call  me  friend,  and  can  look  upon  me  as  a  lady  worthy  of 
respect,  confidence,  and  esteem ;  then  intimate  it,  and  I 
will  joyfully  continue  to  love  you.  But  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  am  at  all  fallen  in  your  estimation,  then  draw  off 
from  me,  and  I  shall  understand  it.  I  do  not  feel  hum- 
bled or  degraded  toward  my  fellow  worms.  God  permit- 
ted me  to  be  tempted  beyond  my  strength.  He  suffered 
this  in  his  wisdom;  and  sooner  or  later  it  will  redound  to 
his  glory  and  my  good.  I  feel  that  he  has  forgiven  me. 
The  upbraidings  of  conscience,  and  that  stupefying  sense 
of  horror  which  kept  me  bowed  to  the  earth,  have  ceased. 
I  have  done  all  I  could.  I  have  repented  and  prayed,  and 
trusted  God ;  and  you,  dear  friend,  first  taught  me  to  love 
the  Saviour  —  to  seek  the  Kingdom.  I  have  found  it, 
Minny,  and  now  rest  peacefully  on  the  bosom  of  Christ. 
I  dread  no  longer.  I  find,  as  you  told  me,  that  "  perfect 
love  casteth  out  all  fear." 


480 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTEE  XLIII. 

CONSCIENCE,   THE    ORACLE    OP  GOD. 

"  Though  thy  slumber  may  be  deep, 

Yet  thy  spirit  may  not  sleep  ; 

There  are  shades  which  will  not  vanish, 

There  are  thoughts  thou  canst  not  banish." 

Minny  had  been  obliged  to  retire,  on  account  of  the 
little  Myra,  but  most  reluctantly,  for  she  would  willingly 
have  set  up  all  night  to  watch,  with  the  jealous  eyes  of 
true  friendship,  the  effect  produced  on  Murray  by  Myra's 
journal.  When  breakfast  was  announced,  Dr.  Brown 
went  in  the  room ;  and  when  he  spoke,  Murray  looked  up 
at  him,  seeming  not  to  comprehend  one  word. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  said  he,  u  but  send  Mrs.  Brown 
here ;  I  must  see  her."  The  Doctor  wTent  back  to  the 
breakfast-room,  with  a  very  dissatisfied  look. 

"  Wife,  I  believe  Murray  is  either  going  to  lose  his  life 
or  his  senses  over  those  papers.  To  all  I  say,  he  answers, 
"  Send  Minny  here ;  I  must  speak  with  Mrs.  Brown,"  etc. 

The  good  little  creature  put  the  child  into  her  grand- 
mother's arms,  and  ran  up  to  him.  "  Good  heavens,  sir, 
wrhat  is  the  matter  ?  Ye  look  the  picture  o'  hopeless  mis- 
ery.   I  dinna  ken  what  mak's  you  tak  on  sae." 

He  pointed  to  the  adjuration,  and  to  the  passage  where 
poor  Marianna  is  accused  of  that  frightful  crime ;  then 
closes  his  eyes,  and  lets  the  paper  fall  from  his  hands. 

"  Now  listen  to  me.  If  ye  will  get  up,  and  tak'  the 
tepid  bath  which  is  made  ready  for  you  in  the  next  room, 
and  will  then  come  down  to  breakfast,  wi'  a  better  looking 
face,  I  will  gie  ye  a  paper  that  will  set  a'  that  to  rights. 


T  HE     NIGH  T  WATCH. 


481 


Your  poor  mither  writ  a  letter,  or  rather  I  writ  it  while 
she  dictated  it.  All  that  trouble  will  have  passed  aw^ay, 
when  ye  ha'  read  that  document.  Eut  I  will  na  gie  it  to 
ye  unless  ye  do  as  I  have  said." 

She  left  him,  and  when  the  servant  came  in  to  assist 
him,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  undressed  and  submerged 
like  one  in  a  trance.  After  which  he  descended  to  the 
breakfast-room.  He  sipped  a  few  drops  of  colfee  mechan- 
ically. Minny  saw  this  abstraction,  and  calling  him  into 
the  parlor,  put  into  his  hand  the  letter  of  his  dying 
mother.  He  begged  permission  to  withdraw  to  his  room. 
When  there,  he  locks  the  door,  sits  down,  and  as  he  opens 
the  letter,  a  cold  shudder  passes  over  him.  He  tries  to  read. 
M  O  G-od  !  what  new  horror  awaits  me  here  ?  I  dread  to 
look  into  this  paper.  Almost  my  entire  faith  in  the  human 
family  is  destroyed." 

To  Charles  Conrad  Murray: 

H  My  Dear  Son :  I  am  called  ;  I  have  received  that  sum- 
mons which  none,  howrever  imperious  and  self-sustaining, 
can  slight.  I  hear  it,  and  feel  it,  and  know  it.  It  is  pro- 
claimed to  me  in  the  roaring  of  my  ears.  I  feel  it  in  my 
failing  sight.  It  is  blended  with  my  heavy  and  difficult 
breathing;  in  this  shuddering  sense  of  dread ;  this  fearful 
looking  forward  to,  and  waiting  for,  I  do  not  know  what. 

"  I  hear  a  hollow,  tomb-like  voice,  which  says  continu- 
ally, '  Woman,  thy  soul  is  required  of  thee  ! '  Oh,  how  it 
sounds  !  How  dolefully  it  rings  !  Will  you  forgive  your 
mother,  Conrad?  Can  you  pardon  her  now,  as  she  stands 
shivering  and  shrinking  on  the  confines  of  two  worlds  — 
neither  wishing  to  go  nor  stay,  not  being  fit  for  either ;  or 
will  your  curse,  when  you  have  heard  all,  descend  with  her 
to  the  grave,  and  herald  her  soul  to  the  abodes  of  dark- 
ness. Alas  !  I  know  this  would  be  but  justice.  Yet 
before  I  die,  I  wish  if  time  serves  to  do  an  act,  one  soli- 
tary act  in  a  whole  life-time,  which  was  not  prompted 
41 


482 


T  H  E    N  I  G  H  T    WATC  H  . 


by  self :  self-love,  self-interest,  self-aggrandizement,  and 
worse  than  all,  revenge. 

"  My  son,  she  whom  you  have  loved  so  fondly,  so  unsel- 
fishly, and  with  a  constancy  which  has  defied  absence, 
mystery,  calumny,  and  time,  which  is  the  best  crucible  to 
test  the  worth  of  every  passion,  still  lives,  and  is  worthy 
of  such  devotion,  and  may  yet  be  your  wife,  without  sin 
or  shame  to  either  of  you.  Poor  girl!  she  has  suffered 
equally  with  yourself.  Each  throb  of  anguish  which  her 
seeming  rejection  has  caused  you ;  each  pang  of  disap- 
pointment and  mortification,  has  been  more  than  respon- 
ded to  by  her  heart,  which  has  known  no  change. 

u  That  soul-harrowing  tale  of  your  close  consanguinity, 
which  was  breathed  into  the  ear  of  the  poor  girl  the  day 
after  she  was  torn  from  your  arms  by  her  hard-hearted 
father,  was  a  fiendish  invention  of  Doctor  G-lencoe  and 
your  wretched  mother  to  separate  you  —  so  often  had  we 
been  foiled  in  our  attempts  to  do  this,  and  so  well  were 
we  convinced  that  prison  walls,  nor  dungeons,  nor  chains, 
would  keep  you  asunder,  if  she  were  willing.  So  that 
embodiment  of  deceit  pretended,  with  many  protestations 
of  sorrow,  a  great  showing  of  shame,  and  almost  mad- 
dening compunctions,  to  reveal  to  his  child  the  secret 
cause  of  his  opposition.  Many  were  the  crocodile  tears 
shed  over  that  poor  thing,  while  we  were  fabricating 
that  intricate  chain  of  events  which  was  forever  to  fetter 
her  conscience. 

"  Conrad,  that  girl's  mother  was  pure,  and  chaste,  and 
honest,  and  upright ;  and  as  such  she  reared  her  daugh- 
ter. She  was  my  successful  rival,  and  for  that  I  hated 
her.  Yes,  from  the  hour  I  felt  her  superiority,  I  hated 
her.  Even  now,  when  time  has  receded  to  a  mere  point, 
and  eternity  is  opening  before  me  with  its  overwhelming  ; 
vastness,  I  am  still  conscious  of  the  existence  of  this  pass- 
ion. I  also  feel  that  it  will  constitute  my  greatest  pun- 
ishment down  in  that  place  to  which  I  am  hastening. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


483 


"  But  my  mind  wanders.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  John 
Glencoe,  whom  I  loved,  even  with  that  sort  of  passion 
which  has  descended  to  my  son ;  devastating,  and  strew- 
ing my  pathway,  even  as  his,  with  the  ruins  of  all  cher- 
ished and  beloved  objects  ;  gave  the  preference  to  the  soft, 
gentle  Myra.  He  gave  her  his  hand  and  his  name.  Aye  ! 
his  name;  but  I  guided,  ruled,  and  possessed  the  man, 
while  the  innocent  and  child-like  Myra  embraced  and 
loved  the  soulless  husband.  Thus  matters  had  progressed. 
But  let  me  retr overt  for  a  moment. 

"  I  waited  but  one  week  after  the  alliance  of  my  lover 
with  my  hated  rival,  and  I  too  married.  In  a  fit  of  unpre- 
cedented recklessness,  I  married  your  father,  wTho  was, 
as  you  know,  first  cousin  to  Marianna's  mother.  Conrad, 
on  your  father's  part,  I  presume  this  was  a  match  of  affec- 
tion, but  I  never  reciprocated  it.  I  honored  his  talents 
and  force  of  character;  I  admired  him  as  the  finest  spe- 
cimen of  manly  beauty.  O  my  son  !  he  was  your  proto- 
type. My  judgment  and  my  secret  soul  acknowledged 
his  vast  superiority  over  my  former  lover ;  but  what  mat- 
ters? When  was  human  love  the  growth  of  human 
will  ? 

"  You  were  born  under  just  such  circumstances,  and 
you  are  like  him.  Oh  !  so  like  him  in  all  things.  This 
alone  should  contradict  that  evil  story  of  ours.  For  seven 
years,  their  home  was  unblessed  by  the  well-spring  of 
gladness.  JSTo  little  toddling  feet  ran  to  meet  him  when 
he  came.  No  soft,  lisping  voice  hailed  him  by  that  sweet- 
est of  names,  papa.  He  grew  moody,  morose,  and  his 
home  seemed  distasteful  to  him.  Then  it  was  that  he 
threw  himself  in  my  way,  importuned,  entreated,  vowed, 
in  the  name  of  all  good  as  well  as  all  evil  spirits,  that  he 
had  never  loved  Myra,  but  had  continued  to  love  me.  I 
do  believe  that  opposition  and  resistance  had  brought  him 
nearer  to  the  genuine  feeling  than  any  he  had  ever  known 
before.    But  1  never  yielded  ;  not  so  much,  I  fear,  from 


484 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


the  love  of  virtue,  as  a  desire  to  punish  him.  Ye  Gods ! 
what  a  feast  it  was  to  me  to  witness  his  writhings  ;  after 
having  lured  him  on  to  hope,  and  tempted  him  beyond 
the  strength  of  any  human  being  to  resist,  then  would  I 
repulse  him,  and  gloat  over  the  sufferings  of  a  man  pros- 
trated by  his  passions. 

u  Yet  I  repeat,  I  never  sinned  with  that  man,  and  I 
loved  him  too.  You  were  born,  my  son,  after  your 
father's  decease,  but  not  as  John  Glencoe  stated,  a  whole 
year. 

"  On  returning  from  the  little  inn  where  they  overtook 
you,  he  poisoned  her  pure  ears  with  the  recital  of  his  own 
depravity  and  my  weakness.  The  turpitude  would  have 
been  greater  on  his  part  than  on  mine,  as  I  was  free  then 
from  the  fetters  of  wedlock.  He  stated  to  that  poor  girl  that 
you  were  both  his  children ;  then  frightened  her  into  the 
most  solemn  adjurations  that  can  be  uttered,  as  she  knelt 
there,  the  Bible  clasped  to  her  breast,  the  priest  standing 
before  her  with  the  crucifix  held  over  her  head,  to  absolve 
or  denounce,  as  the  case  might  be.  (Glencoe  was  a  Papist.) 
The  oath  w^as  thus  administered,  the  girl  repeating  it 
after  the  priest.  Oh  !  I  have  not  time  now  to  recount 
the  horrors  of  that  scene  ;  but  they  made  the  poor  crea- 
ture swear  that  she  would  suffer  all  the  tortures  of  the 
damned  rather  than  meet  you  again  ;  or  if  she  should  see 
you  by  chance,  that  she  would  hide  away.  I  witnessed 
all  this  from  an  aperture  in  a  neighboring  wall ;  and  if  I 
had  had  a  human  heart  in  my  breast,  I  would  have  rushed 
forward  and  given  the  lie  to  that  foul  wrong  to  her  and 
aspersion  on  myself.  But  I  was  riveted  to  the  spot.  Her 
father  had  forced  her  to  confess  her  sins  to  a  priest,  yet 
she  was  a  Protestant,  like  her  mother.  When  she  had 
gotten  through  with  this  dreadful  ordeal,  he  pronounced 
the  sentence,  and  said  she  had  committed  an  unpardon- 
able sin.  Then  the  poor  creature  fell  like  one  pierced  to 
the  heart,  a  lifeless  mass. 


THE    NIGHT     WATCH.  485 

u  She  never  saw  her  husband  after  you  were  separated, 
Conrad  ;  yet  that  little  boy  was  born. 

"And  now,  in  conclusion,  my  poor  son  —  my  good,  duti- 
ful, affectionate  boy,  seeing  no  further  barrier  to  your 
union  with  your  second  cousin,  Marianna  Glencoe,  let  me 
caution  you  against  your  children  falling  into  that  sin 
which  you  did  not  commit.  Your  child,  the  little  Gene- 
vieve, and  that  beautiful  boy  are  half-brother  and  sister. 
O  Conrad  !  O  my  son  !  I  am  done.  There  is  much  more 
that  I  would  say  to  you,  if  I  had  strength,  but  I  have  not. 
Farewell !  may  a  God  of  pity  prosper  you  and  show 
mercy  to  me.  Amen." 

About  the  time  that  Murray  finished  reading  this  letter, 
he  was  summoned  to  the  parlor  to  see  a  visitor,  and  there 
he  found  the  same  mysterious  figure  as  ever,  closely 
veiled.  When  she  offered  the  salutations  of  the  morning, 
he  started,  for  he  had  not  forgotten,  or  recovered  from 
the  influence  of  that  soft,  touching  voice. 

After  he  had  led  her  to  a  seat — still  retaining  her  hand 
— she  says  :  "  Friend,  I  have  come  to  thee,  I  fear,  on  a 
thankless  office.  I  have  told  the  beautiful  lady  of  thee  ; 
spoken  to  her  of  thy  gallant  conduct,  thy  noble  disregard 
of  thy  own  life,  to  save  hers.  I  told  her  of  thy  superhu- 
man strength  and  courage,  expended  in  her  service.  I 
have  plead  for  thee,  explained  to  her  eager  ears  how  thou 
dost  love  her.  I  have  pledged  my  life,  and  the  honor 
of  him  who  is  dearer  to  me  than  that  life,  on  the  proof 
of  thy  fidelity  and  honesty  ;  yet  she  shakes  her  head,  and 
says,  "  I  dare  not,  I  must  not.  I  shall  perjure  myself. 
Oh  !  if  you  but  knew  !  "  When  I  then  plead  for  an  inter- 
view, even  though  that  should  lead  to  a  final  sepa- 
ration, she  weeps  vehemently,  and  says,  "  I  dare  not  even 
look  upon  him  one  time.  O  that  I  could  gaze  on  his 
noble  countenance  one  instant,  and  then  close  these  eyes 
in  death  !  "  She  also  mourns  for  her  child,  grandmother, 
and  her  friend  Minny. 


486 


T H  E    N 1 G H T    W ATCH. 


H  I  have  come  to  arrange  a  meeting  with  some  of  you. 
Though  you,  my  dear  friend,"  said  she,  turning  to  Con- 
rad, and  taking  both  of  his  hands,  "  she  will  not  consent  to 
see  ;  she  has  not  told  me  wherefore.  I  can  not  restore  her 
to  thee  here,  just  yet.  It  would  be  as  much  as  my  own 
life,  and  that  of  another,  is  worth,  to  remove  her  until  the 
time  arrives.  That  may  come  sooner  than  we  know  of  ^ 
at  present.  To  my  power  of  doing  good,  there  is  a  limit, 
and  I  am  obliged  to  proceed  with  caution.  She  has 
offered  two  or  three  times  to  make  me  acquainted  with 
the  events  and  vicissitudes  of  her  life,  but  I  have  always 
declined  it.  I  did  not  wish  to  see  her  excited,  while  so 
feeble.  Ah  !  little  does  she  suspect  how  much  I  have 
been  forced  to  know  of  her  sad  history.  But  this  secret 
which  keeps  you  asunder,  I  do  not  know.  Yet  I  hope, 
sir,  that  it  is  not  irremediable." 

"No,  dear  lady,"  said  Murray;  "I  have  that  here," 
holding  out  his  mother's  letter,  "  which  will  restore  the 
right." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it,"  said  she,  "  for,  with  me, 
1  right  makes  might.'  My  intention  is  to  come  in  a  car- 
riage to-night,  and  conduct  thee  to  her ;  Murdoch  will  be 
with  me.  But  remember,  sir,  when  I  introduce  thee 
within  the  secret  walls  of  my  people — conduct  thee  into 
their  stronghold,  that  I  place  my  own  life,  and  the  safety 
of  others,  who  are  dear  to  me,  at  thy  mercy,  and  maybe 
jeopardize  the  interest  of  five  hundred  Jews.  And  my 
father,  thou  would'st  not  wreak  thy  indignation  and 
wrath  on  that  old  man?  Thou  would'st  not  harm  him? 
Surely  his  daughter,  who  has  ever  stood  between  thee 
and  danger,  and  tried  to  protect  those  thou  lovest,  may 
hope  for  clemency  at  thy  hands,  toward  the  feeble,  white- 
haired,  old  man.  His  power  is  gone ;  he  can  work  no 
more  mischief  at  Tier  behest.  His  will  and  strength  to 
do  so,  seemed  to  depart  with  her  life." 

"  Nay,  lady,  you  surely  do  not  distrust  me?    I  would 


THE    N  I  G  H  T    W  A  T  G  11  . 


487 


be  drawn  by  wild  horses,  or  hung  up  like  a  malefactor, 
ere  I  would  endanger  aught  that  you  love  and  value." 

She  passed  into  Minny's  room,  and  held  a  long  and 
confidential  conversation,  with  that  good  little  creature. 
Whether  they  had  ever  met  before,  or  whether  they  had 
been  made  acquainted  only  through  the  £«Night  Watch.' 
i  these  chronicles  do  not  state.  But  there  seemed  to  be 
a  perfect  harmony  and  concert  in  their  movements. 
She  took  the  little  Myra  from  Clarence,  fondled  her  affec- 
tionately for  a  short  time  ;  then,  placing  her  again  in  his 
arms,  stooped  down  and  kissed  the  boy. 

"  Sweet  cherub  !  I  will  come  to-night,  and  take  thee  to 
thy  mother.  She  is  quite  well,  my  love,  and  waiting  for 
thee  ;  but  thou  must  be  patient,  like  a  darling  little  boy, 
till  I  come."    She  then  left. 

"  Aweel,  aweel,  I  wonder  what  a'  this  means.  See  here, 
Col.  Murray,  I  dinna  ken  what  has  come  o'er  the  world/ ' 
And  she  carried  the  children  to  Murray.  "  See  what  the 
fairy  queen  has  left." 

There  was  a  necklace  of  diamonds  of  great  value 
around  the  little  girl's  neck,  and  on  Clarence's  finger  a 
costly  gem,  and  in  his  bosom  a  diamond  pin.  Murray 
had  been  so  much  engrossed  with  his  reflections,  and  his 
joy  was  so  full  to  find  the  ban  removed  from  them,  that  he 
had  not  thought  of  the  boy.  In  thinking  so  intensely  of 
the  mother,  he  had  forgotten  the  child.  Kow  the  idea 
comes  rushing  into  his  mind.  He  catches  him  up,  clasps 
him  to  his  breast,  and  calls  out  in  joyful  recollections, 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Brown,  did  I  read  aright?  Can  the 
instincts  of  the  heart  deceive  me  ?  It  is  so  !  Did  I  read 
aright?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  hist,  hist !  Speak  not  o'  that  to  him.  Myra 
wad  na  have  him  to  speer  into  the  past,  I  wot." 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  friend  ;  and  you  are  always 
wise,  discreet,  and  considerate." 

We  must  now  take  rather  a  retrograde  stride. 


488 


T HE    N I G H  T    W  A  T C H . 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

RETRIBUTION:    OR    T  II  E    MANIAC  HUSBAND. 

41  There  is  your  husband  —  like  a  mildewed  ear, 
Blasting  your  wholesome  presence/' 

41  His  wretched  brain  gave  way, 
And  he  became  a  wreck  at  random  driven, 
Without  one  glimpse  of  reason  or  of  heaven." 

When  John  Glencoe  arrived  at  the  boarding-house,  on  his 
way  to  claim  his  wife  and  child,  he  found  Walter  walking 
the  hall  in  great  agitation.  He  had  preceded  the  besotted 
and  bestial  husband,  that  he  might  lend  assistance,  if  neces- 
sary, to  the  unfortunate  wife.  When  he  heard  from  Doc- 
tor Goodwin  that  they  were  not  to  be  found,  and  that 
Marianna  had  escaped  in  the  night  from  the  terrible  fate 
which  awaited  her  on  the  morrow,  he  was  more  aston- 
ished th  an  rejoiced.  His  first  impulse  was  to  pursue  them  ; 
then  he  remembered  that  he  had  no  right  to  do  so,  hav- 
ing no  claims  on  them.  So  he  had  to  sit  down  and 
"  devour  his  heart "  in  secret,  and  endure  as  best  he  could 
the  pangs  of  unrequited  love. 

But  who  can  describe,  what  pen  or  pencil  can  paint  the 
rage  of  the  foiled  husband  ?  He  had  been  impelled  by 
the  fiercest  and  worst  passions  incident  to  human  nature, 
to  seek  his  poor  wife.  Eevenge  and  lust,  these  were  the 
only  motives  which  induced  his  return  from  Europe,  and 
prompted  that  long  and  careful  search,  until  lighting  on 
some  trifling  circumstances,  he  traced  her  thither.  His 
intention  was  to  get  possession  of  her  person,  and  then 
remove  to  some  distant  country,  where  he  could,  urmo- 


THE    _N  I  <j  H  I    V  A  I  C  H  .  489 

ticed  and  unmolested,  indulge  the  evil  promptings  of  his 
now  depraved  heart.  But  God,  who  never  slumbers  or 
sleeps,  but  continues  to  watch  over  the  humble  and  desti- 
tute, did  not  see  fit  to  have  that  poor  stray  lamb  of  the 
fold  further  outraged. 

Poor  Gleneoe  was  not  radically  bad.  but  he  was  impelled 
on  by  noti ons  of  wrongs,  and  infuriated  by  maddening 
drinks  and  evil  associate!!  to  this  cruel  step.  He  had  not 
for  one  second  thought  of  the  possibility  of  his  poor, 
helpless,  defenseless  wife  offering  the  least  resistance  to 
his  will ;  much  less,  escaping  from  his  power.  There- 
fore, when  he  was  informed  of  this  fact,  he  raved  and 
swore,  gnashed  his  teeth,  tore  his  hair,  rushed  from  room 
to  room,  threw  down  furniture,  broke  whatever  he  laid 
his  hands  on.  threw  costly  articles  of  ornament  out  of  the 
windows,  crushing  other  things  to  atoms  in  his  hands. 

At  last,  he  came  to  a  large  mirror,  where  he  -aw  his 
ghastly  and  distorted  features  reflected.  He  sent  forth  a 
hideous  yell,  and  then  burst  into  that  most  appalling  of  all 
sounds,  a  loud.  wild,  maniac  laugh. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  You  are  grinning  and  gibbering  at  me. 
are  vou  ?  You  foul  fiend  !  vou  Devil !  You  shall  not 
rejoice  at  my  discomfiture.  You  have  come  to  claim  me, 
maybe.  Well,  we'll  see : V  and  he  rushed  on  the  splendid 
Yenitian  plate,  and  in  a  short  time  had  demolished  its 
polished  face  with  his  fist,  aiming  every  blow  at  his  own 
image,  taking  it  for  a  mocking  demon. 

He  was  secured  and  carried,  exhausted  and  bleeding,  to 
the  same  cell  which  had  for  such  a  length  of  time  impris- 
oned his  hapless  wife.  This  was  accidental.  The  same 
strait-jacket  that  had  been  used  to  confine  her  tender 
limbs,  was  used  to  secure  his  distorted  and  mangled  ones. 

When  Doctor  Severe  came,  he  found  him  a  wild  maniac, 
raging  mad  like  a  rabid  dog.  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and 
snapping  at  everything  which  came  in  his  way.  All  pos- 
sible means  was  used  to  restore  him  :  for  his  ample  fortune 


490 


T H E     NIGHT    WAT  C H  . 


secured  to  him  every  attention.  All  skill  was  exhausted, 
without  producing  any  other  change  than  a  dogged 
silence.  A  month  passed  in  this  way ;  and  they  have 
pronounced  him  a  hopeless  case  of  idiotic  insanity. 


Thus  the  interval  had  elapsed.  Poor  Marianna  had 
never  been  advised  of  the  events  above  recorded ;  or  of 
the  present  existing  facts. 

Minny  has  just  reminded  Col.  Murray,  that  she  feared 
Myra  would  make  this  a  barrier  to  their  union,  even  after 
she  finds  the  first  is  removed.  She  proposes,  therefore, 
that  he  shall  write  at  once  to  Dr.  Goodwin,  and  ascertain 
the  present  condition  of  the  patient. 

"Invaluable  woman,"  exclaimed  he,  "you  forget  no- 
thing. This  is  all-important.  I  will  send  a  dispatch, 
which  will  be  answered  ere  we  meet."  He  then  sat  down 
to  write.  The  door-bell  rings  ;  and  the  servant  shows 
in  Miss  Emma  Calderwood,  and  a  gentleman. 

The  girl  introduces  Doctor  Jocelyn  ;  and  then  catching 
up  the  little  Clarence,  is  so  occupied  with  him  that  she 
does  not  see  the  crimson  flash  on  her  lover's  cheek. 

Murray  approached  him,  and  taking  his  hand,  said  with 
emotion,  "I  thank  God  that  I  am  permitted  this  happi- 
ness once  more.  My  friend,  I  have  sought  you  every- 
where. I  have  written  letter  after  letter,  directing  them 
to  every  city  and  town  in  the  United  States,  without 
receiving  a  response." 

"Why  this  is  most  strange!  I  have  done  the  same, 
only  I  was  informed  of  your  whereabouts ;  and  wrote 
advisedly.  This  is  the  w7hole  groundwork  of  my  dis- 
satisfaction tow7ard  you,  sir.  I  was,  in  truth,  most  deeply 
wounded  by  your  seeming  slights ;  and  must  needs  feel 
indignant  at  those  contempts  put  upon  me.  But  recently, 
wnthin  a  day  or  two  (said  he,  glancing  at  Emma),  I  have 
cultivated  better  feelings." 


T  II  E    NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H  . 


491 


"Explain,  sir,  if  you  please.  I  am  most  anxious  to 
have  an  eclaircissement  at  once,  that  I  may  free  myself 
from  this  blame.    Proceed,  my  friend.    I  am  impatient." 

"A  year  or  two  ago,  meeting  with  a  disappointment 
where  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  had  been  garnered  up, 
and  by  which  they  were  wrecked,  I  became  so  despairingly 
wretched,  that  I  suffered  my  business  to  fall  into  frightful 
disorder.  You  know,  perhaps,  that  I  am  an  orphan,  poor, 
and  without  patronage.  After  my  only  friend  and  bene- 
factor died,  I  was  dependent  on  the  profession,  which  I 
had  acquired  through  his  charity.  Poor  Doctor  Glen- 
coe :  I  have  cause  to  speak  kindl}7  of  him,  at  least.  "Well : 
I  neglected  this  only  means  left  me  of  independence,  and 
locked  myself  up  in  my  chamber,  holding  no  communica- 
tion with  any.  I  thus  became  involved  ;  indebted  to  the 
landlord,  without  hope  of  finding  the  means  to  appease 
his  rapacity.  I  wrote  to  you,  sir,  begging  the  loan  of  a 
small  sum." 

"For  the  love  of  God,  say  no  more:  or  say  at  once 
that  you  exonerate  me  from  this  meanness.  Tell  me  that 
you  are  convinced  that  I  never  received  those  letters. 
My  dear  Walter,  I  would  have  given  you  my  coat,  and 
gone  without  it  myself.  I  am  ready  now,  as  before,  to 
divide  the  last  dollar  with  you." 

"  I  do  believe  you,  sir  ;  and  may  He  whom  you  invoke, 
forgive  me,  as  I  trust  you  will,  for  suffering  those  doubts 
to  take  hold  of  me  at  all." 

"  Go  on,"  added  Murray ;  11 1  see  you  have  more  to  com- 
municate." 

"I  was  driven  by  my  necessities  to  seek  a  subordinate 
situation  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  which  place  to  one  of  my 
temperament  was  maddening.  My  God  !  the  horrors  that 
I  have  been  forced  to  witness  in  that  pandemonium  are 
enough  to  drive  the  strongest  into  the  place  for  life.  But 
let  me  hasten.  It  was  my  duty,  by  my  particular  request, 
to  wait  professionally  on  poor  Mr.  Glencoe,  that  I  might 


492 


T  HE    N  I  G  H  T     W  A  T  C  H 


minister  to  his  few  wants  ;  which  I  did  to  the  last,  faith- 
fully ameliorating  his  condition,  and  mitigating  as  much 
as  I  dared  the  stern  usages  of  the  institution.  He  is  dead  ! 
(It  was  by  a  mighty  effort  that  Conrad  suppressed  an 
exclamation.  Eut  he  did  suppress  it,  for  he  saw  that  he 
was  watched.)  "  Mr.  Glencoe  died  about  two  weeks 
since,"  continued  Dr.  Jocelyn.  "  Before  his  death,  he  had 
his  will  drawn  up  and  attested  by  the  1  Board  of  Physi- 
cians,' who  assert  on  oath  that  his  last  hours  were  sane. 
His  immense  estate  he  bequeathed  jointly  to  the  little 
Clarence  and  myself.  I  am  here  now,  sir,  to  yield  up  my 
portion  to  the  rightful  heirs  —  his  wife  and  his  great  aunt, 
Marianna's  grandmother. " 

"  JSToble,  generous  young  man  !  How  exalted  is  your 
nature  !  Suffer  me  to  say  ,  I  admire  and  honor  you  above 
measure.  But  I  presume  you  have  heard  of  the  dreadful 
circumstances  which  wrap  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate 
Marianna  in  mystery." 

The  young  man  turned  away  and  walked  to  the  win- 
dow. After  a  while,  he  came  up  to  Murray,  and  said,  "  Sir, 
you  used  the  word  mystery  ;  is  it  not  a  certainty  ?  " 

"  No  :  we  have  strong  hopes  that  she  lives." 

"  Indeed!  Then  why  stand  ye  here?  How  can  you 
for  one  moment  thus  fold  your  arms  in  peace  ?  Away  at 
once  to  the  rescue,  else  I "  

He  was  interrupted  in  these  vehement  ejaculations  and 
implied  reproaches,  by  the  entrance  of  old  Mrs.  Glencoe. 
Walter  approached  her,  and  after  the  mournful  greetings 
were  over,  they  withdrew  to  another  room,  where  they 
conversed  for  a  long  time. 

In  the  interim,  Murray  had  learned  from  Emma  that 
Walter  was  now  her  declared  lover. 

u  And  I  hope  accepted  one?  "  rejoined  Minny. 

« Not  quite,"  said  the  innocent  girl,  blushing.  Walter 
comes  at  the  moment,  and  they  depart. 

"Now,  my  gude  friend,  ye  canna  longer  doubt.  Ye 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


493 


must  feel  that  the  hand  o'  the  Lord  is  in  a'  this  !  Dinna 
ye  see  how  the  way  is  being  opened  for  ye  ?  Now,  will 
ye  still  distrust  God?" 

"  I  shall  never  forget  to  trace  all  good  under  Him  to 
you,  our  patron  saint,"  said  Murray,  with  emotion. 

"  Aweel  now  !  Dinna  say  sic  thing  as  that.  Not  unto 
puir  me,  but  unto  that  veiled  lady.  Eender  tribute  only 
where  it  is  due.  I  canna  claim  ony thing  for  simply  doing 
my  duty,  when  God  mak's  the  way  sae  plain." 

The  hours  roll  on  heavily.  Suspense  is  at  the  front  of 
the  car,  and  anxiety  clogs  its  wheels.  They  are  waiting 
for  the  appearance  of  the  veiled  lady  with  feverish  impa- 
tience. 

Eight  o'clock:  nine — ten,  and  she  does  not  come. 
They  are  almost  in  despair.  At  last  a  carriage-is  driven 
furiously  up  to  the  door.  They  have  taken  their  seats  in 
it.    A  soft,  sweet  voice  says  : 

"  I  hope  thou  wilt  forgive  me.  We  have  been  detained 
by  the  sudden  illness  of  my  father." 

"  I  trust  he  is  better  now?"  said  Murray. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  else  I  could  not  be  here  at  this 
moment." 

They  sped  on.  On,  on  roll  those  everlasting  wheels. 
"  Will  we  never  arrive?  "  thought  Minny. 

"  Oh  !  when  shall  I  behold  her  ?  "  felt  Murray. 

After  a  while  they  stop.  It  is  very  dark.  The  young 
girl  takes  Murray  by  the  hand  ;  and  Murdoch,  with  the 
child  in  one  arm,  has  Minny  on  the  other.  They  plunge 
into  that  dark  alley,  and  now  they  ascend  that  intermin- 
able stair-way.  On  reaching  the  last  platform,  they  hear 
the  tinkling  of  the  little  bell.  The  girl  listens  for  the 
quavering  voice.  She  steps  back;  the  bell  rings  again. 
She  gives  the  rap,  but  there  is  no  answering  call.  She 
throws  a  frightened  look  into  Murdoch's  face,  who  opens 
the  door  softly,  and  they  enter  the  same  miserable  place 
which  has  been  described  before —  with  this  difference. 


494  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

there  is  a  small  cot  or  lounge  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
which  is  in  very  marked  contrast  with  all  surrounding 
objects.  The  bed  and  its  furniture  is  of  spotless  white- 
ness, and  of  very  fine  material. 

The  girl  goes  up  to  the  couch,  and  folding  down  the 
counterpane,  finds  it  empty.  She  casts  a  bewildered  look 
around.  Then  fixing  her  eyes  on  Murdoch,  with  the 
same  alarmed  look  of  inquiry,  exclaims,  "  Father  Abra- 
ham!  what  does  this  mean?  Oh!  my  dear  Murdoch, 
where  is  he  ?    Who  has  stolen  him  from  me  ?  " 

The  slightest  smile  passed  over  the  handsome  face  of 
the  Night  Watch,  as  he  said,  "  Fear  not,  child.  Who, 
think  ye,  would  wish  to  do  that?  " 

There  is  a  mean,  poverty-stricken  tallow  candle  stuck 
in  a  hole  in  the  top  of  the  rickety  table,  which  sends  forth 
from  its  long  wick,  a  ghastly  glare  on  all  around.  The 
tallow  has  melted,  and  run  down  on  the  side,  forming 
itself  into  fantastic  shapes,  which  the  timid  and  supersti- 
tious call  a  "  winding  sheet."  Murdoch  seems  not  to  be 
wholly  free  from  this  weakness ;  for  an  ejaculation  of 
impatience  escaped  him,  as  he  proceeded  to  remove  it 
ere  Leah  should  notice.  Having  lighted  another,  he 
goes  to  a  corner  near  the  fire-place,  and  holding  the 
light  down,  its  rays  fall  on  the  body  of  the  miser,  stretched 
across  that  old  trunk  ;  his  arms  spread  out  protectingly 
over  it,  and  his  cheek  laid  lovingly  on  the  coarse,  rough 
hair.  His  attitude  is  that  of  one  wishing  to  caress  or 
shield  a  beloved  object. 

The  girl  flies  to  him  —  having  torn  off  her  bonnet  and 
veil  —  and  falling  on  her  knees,  commenced  the  most 
plaintive  lamentations. 

Murdoch  takes  her  up  tenderly  and  says,  "  Leah,  you 
are  mistaken,  child.  He  is  not  dead  but  sleeps.  Get 
your  elixir,  while  I  remove  him  to  the  bed." 

He  found  some  difficulty  in  tearing  him  off;  his  fingers 
had  clenched  the  iron  bands  with  such  tenacity,  and 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


495 


retained  their  hold  with  such  spasmodic  force,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  hands  must  needs  be  severed  from  the 
arm.  By  Murray's  assistance,  he  succeeded  in  dislodging 
him ;  and  then  he  roused  up  and  began  to  sigh  and  moan 
most  piteously. 

"Oh!  oh!  They  want  my  monish.  They  have  come 
to  take  my  monish."  Then  he  would  weep  with  the 
imbecility  of  childhood. 

Leah  brings  him  the  draught.  He  clutches  it  and  cries 
out,  "  It  is  too  much.  Thou  dost  waste  things,  Leah. 
Hagar  would  not  treat  her  poor  fadder  so.  Oh  !  oh  !  I 
sail  be  ruin.    I  —  I"  

"  Drink  it,  dear  father,  said  the  girl ;  this  must  last  you 
all  night." 

"Den  put  out  one  of  dem  candle;  I  sail  be  ruin.  O 
shild !  I  sail  be  ruin."  And  he  falls  asleep,  still  whim- 
pering. 

Leah  rings  a  silver  bell :  a  small  woman,  very  richly 
dressed,  with  keen,  sinister-looking  black  eyes,  and  black 
hair,  cut  short  over  her  head,  appears.  Minny  recog- 
nizes those  features.  They  belong  to  the  little  African 
slave.  But  that  pure  white  skin,  and  that  perfectly  devel- 
oped bust,  are  those  of  a  young  lady  of  the  Caucasian 
race. 

"Hagar,"  said  Leah,  "  remain  here  ;  on  thy  life,  do  not 
leave  him  one  moment.    I  shall  return  anon." 

She  then  lead  the  way,  first  removing  a  parcel  of  old 
clothes  from  the  wall,  which  looked  as  if  they  had  hung 
there  for  a  century  ;  then  pressed  on  a  board  :  a  portion 
of  the  wall,  rather  less  than  a  common  door  recedes,  and 
they  pass  into  a  narrow  passage  or  corridor.  They  tra- 
verse this  pass-way  for  some  distance;  then,  after  descend- 
ing a  few  moments,  they  emerge  into  a  spacious  hall, 
lighted  by  a  handsome  lamp  from  the  ceiling.  At  the  end 
of  this  hall,  which  is  marble,  are  folding  doors  beautifully 
carved  and  polished.    These  doors  open  as  if  by  magic,  at 


496 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


the  approach  of  the  mistress,  and  disclose  a  large  sa- 
loon resplendent  with  chandeliers,  suspended  from  the 
vaulted  roof,  whose  innumerable  lights  are  reflected  on  the 
face  of  large  mirrors  reaching  to  the  floor.  On  either 
side  of  the  room  are  arranged  in  charming  negligence, 
gorgeous  sofas,  ottomans,  divans,  rocking  chairs,  etc.  The 
carpet  is  so  rich  and  soft,  that  their  foot-fall  seems  to  be 
on  down  ;  crimson  satin,  and  the  finest  white  muslin  cur- 
tains, hang  from  the  lofty  window-frames.  These  only 
open  into  other  spacious  rooms ;  there  seems  to  be  no 
looking  out  on  the  external  world. 

At  one  end  of  this  grand  saloon,  there  is  an  aviary; 
wrhere  the  birds  imprisoned  feel  not  their  fetters — all  is 
so  beautiful  and  delicious  there  :  they  sing  and  chirp,  and 
hop  from  flower  to  flower  ;  and  they  know^  their  mistress, 
and  sing  more  cheerily,  and  carol  more  blithely.  When 
she  comes,  they  perch  upon  her  hand,  and  peck  the  seeds 
and  crumbs  from  her  fingers,  as  she  feeds  them. 

At  the  other  end  is  a  conservatory,  where  every 
native,  and  many  exotics,  are  cultivated  ;  the  sun  being 
admitted  through  a  sky-light.  There  are  also  various 
musical  instruments  lying  about  the  room.  Our  friends, 
notwithstanding  their  pre-occupation,  are  compelled  to 
note  the  appointments  of  this  room  so  unique  as  well 
as  magnificent ;  so  beautiful  and  dazzling. 

tC  Now  rest  thee  here,  my  friends,  while  I  go  in  first," 
said  Leah.  "Murdoch,  remain  thou  with  them."  And 
taking  the  child  by  the  hand,  she  disappears. 

In  another  instant,  they  hear  a  simultaneous  cry  of  joy, 
from  mother  and  child.  After  a  short  time,  Minny  is 
taken  in.  The  good  creature's  voice  is  heard  first  as  if 
in  explanation;  then  expostulation.  Then  she  is  inter- 
rupted by  sobs  and  ejaculations,  from  poor  Myra.  Now, 
again,  that  honest,  upright,  and  earnest  voice,  is  heard  in 
deprecatory  tones.  Anon  she  chides.  But  when  those 
soft,  sweet,  plaintive  tones  are  heard  in  entreaty  :  "  For 


THE    NIGHT    \V  A  T  0  H  . 


497 


the  love  of  heaven,  cease  to  tempt  me,  Minny,"  Murray 
can  stand  it  no  longer.  He  burst  from  the  firm  grasp 
of  Murdoch  ;  who  had  held  him  fast  up  to  that  moment, 
lest  he  should  spoil  all,  by  precipitating  himself  into  her 
presence  at  the  wrong  time.  He  has  cleared  the  distance 
between  them,  and  Marianna,  is  once  more  resting  on 
his  bosom.  All  else  is  forgotten;  many  minutes  of  wild, 
delirious  joy,  and  ecstatic  rapture,  pass  by  before  they 
utter  a  word;  then,  when  their  imprisoned  feelings  are 
freed,  and  their  long  pent-up  natures  are  permitted  to 
meet  and  mingle ;  when  soul  answers  to  soul  from  the 
secret  depth  of  their  fond,* loving  hearts,  then  they  find 
language  to  express  it. 

When  Conrad  had  rushed  into  the  room,  and  thrown 
himself  down  by  the  side  of  Marianna,  Leah  slipped 
away,  and  going  back  to  Murdoch,  sat  down  by  him,  and 
leaning  her  head  wearily  on  his  shoulder,  shed  tears,  gen- 
tle tears,  soft  and  refreshing  as  the  evening  dew.  He 
encircled  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  her  to  his  bosom 
tenderly ;  Oh  how  tenderly  and  delicately !  You  could 
scarcely  have  believed  that  this  was  the  same  Night 
Watch.  Yet  it  is  even  so.  It  is  he,  and  the  heart  and  the 
head  are  the  same ;  the  true  and  genuine  nature  is  the 
same;  he  has  only  cast  off  the  rough  coating,  the  coarse 
rind. 

"  Dear  one,"  said  he,  softly,  in  her  ear,  "  the  time  has 
almost  come.  Our  task  is  well-nigh  done,  and  we  have 
nearly  reached  the  goal.  Oh  !  how  I  do  love  you  for  your 
goodness." 

"  And  I  thee  for  thy  greatness,"  sighed  the  girl. 

They  are  now  joined  by  Minny.  She  informs  them 
that  there  is  but  one  draw-back  to  an  entire  reconciliation. 
The  letter  —  Conrad's  letter;  she  can  not  be  reconciled  to 
that.  It  was  a  forgery  ;  they  believe  this;  still  Mari- 
anna is  sad  and  tearful. 

"  If  that  is  all,"  said  Leah,  "  I  can  soon  make  the  present 
42 


498 


T  H  E    N  I  G  M  T    W  A  T  C  B 


bright  again."  She  went  to  her  room,  and  returned 
with  two  papers,  and  tapping  at  their  door,  passed  in. 
She  saw  at  a  glance  that  there  was  a  shadow  on  their 
brows.  u  Come,  this  must  not  be,  friends.  Dispel  that 
cloud,  and  listen  to  me." 

Then  she  recounts  the  ^vents  which  transpired  at  the 
time  of  Miss  Lindsay's  visit  to  her  father  —  hands  the  orig- 
inal letter  which  she  picked  up  from  the  floor  after  the 
lady  had  left,  saying  very  innocently,  "  I  presume  it 
belongs  to  thee,  lady  ;  "  and  turning  to  Conrad,  says, 
"  There  was  no  envelop,  but  the  name  within  is  thine." 

They  are  again  left  alorffe,  and  now  this  last  barrier  is 
removed.  It  is  all  explained,  and  they  are  more  fully 
convinced  than  ever,  that  they  had  narrowly  escaped  being 
sacrificed  to  the  diabolical  plot  meant  to  subserve  the 
interests  of  the  baser  actors  in  the  foregoing  drama. 

Minny  goes  in  to  admonish  them  of  the  hour.  She 
must  return  to  her  family,  and  they  are  to  accompany 
her.  By  dint  of  much  talking,  she  at  length  gets  them 
to  understand  that  they  are  still  inhabitants  of  this  mun- 
dane sphere,  and  that  her  duties  call  her  to  her  own 
peculiar  little  sphere. 

They  look  round  for  their  benefactress,  that  they  may 
pour  out  their  souls  in  gratitude,  but  she  is  not  there. 
Murray  takes  up  the  child,  twines  his  other  arm  about 
the  waist  of  Marianna,  and  they  move  on  through  the 
same  passages  and  hall.  On  arriving  at  the  end  of  the 
last  corridor,  Murdoch  listens  a  moment;  then  pressing 
his  finger  on  the  spring,  the  wall  opens,  and  they  pass 
through.  Leah  is  there  on  her  knees,  by  the  side  of  the 
dying  miser.  They  do  not  invade  the  privacy  of  her 
sorrow,  which  is  holy,  and  should  not  be  intermeddled 
with. 

When  Murdoch  has  seen  them  to  the  carriage,  he  returns 
to  Leah.  He  entreats  her  to  retire  and  leave  him  to 
watch.    "  Oh  no,  dear  Murdoch,  it  is  not  long  that  any  of 


THE    N  i  G  H T    W A  T  C  H 


499 


us  will  have  to  minister  to  him.  Let  me  alone.  1  must 
speak  a  great  deal  between  this  and  day." 

The  patient  opens  his  eyes,  and  seeing  Murdoch,  with 
an  impatient  gesture  waves  him  off. 

"  Go,  dear  Murdoch,"  said  Leah,  "he  wishes  to  be  left 
alone  with  me,  that  is  all.  Do  not  think  hardly  of  me, 
my  love,  for  sending  you  away."  She  rises  from  her 
knees,  and  laying  one  little  white  hand  round  his  neck, 
with  the  other  pushes  back  the  raven  locks  from  his  lofty 
brow,  and  imprints  a  holy  kiss  on  his  forehead  ;  then 
returned  and  knelt  again  by  the  poor  old  man.  He 
rewards  her  with  a  look  of  unutterable  love  and  confi- 
dence. 

The  whole  night,  that  dutiful  daughter  and  noble- 
minded  woman  is  pleading  for  others.  She  entreats  her 
father  to  make  restitution,  ere  it  is  too  late,  to  all  whom 
his  conscience  accuses  him  of  having  wronged.  She  begs 
him  to  leave  her  sister  Hagar  equal  heiress  with  herself 
in  his  will,  which  he  is  now  most  anxious  to  have  drawn 
up.  But  when  she  proposes  sending  for  a  notary,  he 
objects  vehemently,  saying  that  she  only  should  write  it. 
To  pacify  him,  she  consents.  Then  there  on  her  knees, 
with  streaming  eyes,  she  implores  him  to  consent  to  her 
marriage  with  Murdoch.  He  shakes  his  head,  and  makes 
an  angry  sign  for  silence. 

"  Ah  !  poor  father,  I  can  not  obey  thee  in  this.  I  must 
speak  ere  it  "is  too  late."    The  Jew  shakes  his  head  again  . 

"  My  dear  father,  he  is  the  best  friend  thou  ever  hadst. 
It  was  only  that  he  might  in  some  sort  watch  over,  warn, 
and  shield  thy  family  and  our  people  from  wrong  and 
oppression,  that  he  ever  consented  to  become  the  Night 
Watch.  Otherwise  he  would  not  have  descended  to  such 
an  office." 

The  old  man  seems  to  reflect;  then  shaking  his  head, 
closes  his  eyes.  Leah  proposes  to  send  for  a  Eabbi ;  but 
he  objects  to  this  also,  and  says,  peevishly,  "  Shild,  shild,  I 


500 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


does  not  want  any  of  dem  ;  dou  is  enough  for  me,  and  can 
do  all  dat  I  wants  done." 

Day  dawns,  and  finds  that  daughter  still  on  her  knees, 
holding  the  hand  of  her  death-stricken  father.  Pres- 
ently she  withdraws  to  prepare  him  some  nutriment,  but 
he  yells  after  her  as  if  frightened  by  ten  thousand  furies. 
Hagar,  who  has  been  all  her  life  his  tool  and  instrument 
of  mischief,  who  was  always  one  after  his  own  heart,  is  now 
banished  from  his  presence.  He  is  apparently  afraid  of  her. 

Twelve  o'clock  ;  and  the  patient  is  so  much  worse  that 
the  girl  sends  for  the  Eabbi  without  his  consent.  When 
he  conies,  he  informs  Leah  that  there  is  no  time  to  lose ; 
and  wrhatever  there  is  to  do,  must  be  done  quickly.  He 
writes  a  fewT  words,  and  gives  the  note  to  Hagar.  Then 
that  High  Priest  —  that  old  Caiaphas —  sits  down  by  that 
crime-stained  man,  whose  soul  is  weighed  down  by  sin, 
and  talks  to  him  of  his  temporal  affairs.  Leah  had  left 
the  room  for  a  moment,  and  on  her  return  brings  with  her 
this  note  to  Murdoch  : 

"  Dear  Murdoch  —  Come  quickly,  and  bring  with  thee 
as  witnesses,  Col.  Murray,  Doctor  Brown,  and  a  notary. 
Lose  no  time ;  in  a  little  while  it  will  be  too  late. 

Thine  own  LEAH.', 

She  ran  down  to  the  store,  and  calling  the  shop-boy,  gave 
him  the  note  and  a  piece  of  money,  urging  him  to  delay 
not  a  second.  Fortunately  he  found  Murdoch  on  his  way 
there.  He  jumped  into  a  hack,  and  drove  to  the  different 
points ;  and  having  gathered  up  the  persons  named,  in  a 
short  time  they  are  at  the  place. 

Leah  is  still  on  her  knees  by  the  bedside.  She  raised 
her  head,  and  by  signs  intimated  that  they  must  keep  out 
of  sight.  They  therefore  ranged  themselves  at  the  back 
of  the  patient.  There  are  five  or  six  strange-looking 
swarthy  Jew  faces  sitting  opposite,  all  the  while  eyeing 
them  with  looks  of  distrust  and  curiosity. 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C  H  . 


501 


The  Kabbi  goes  to  him,  and  inquires  if  he  wishes  to 
have  his  will  executed.  Then  each  one  of  the  Jews  pro- 
poses, in  turn,  to  perform  this  service.  The  miser  refuses, 
and  points  to  Leah. 

She  gets  up  at  once,  and  taking  a  Portfolio  from  the 
shelf,  says,  "Dear  father,  thy  child  is  ready  to  write." 
The  Jews  draw  closely  around  her,  as  if  afraid  of  treach- 
ery even  at  the  hour  of  death.  The  old  man,  greatly  to 
the  amazement  of  all,  raises  himself  without  assistance, 
and  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  a  strong  and  clear  voice, 
speaking  slowly,  and  with  great  distinctness,  begins ; 
while  Leah  writes  out  his  jargon  in  plain  English. 

"  I,  Levi  Nathan,  do  will  and  bequeath  to  the  people 
living  in  this  house,  fifty  thousand  dollars,  to  be  divided 
among  them.  I  leave  to  my  daughter  Hagar  the  sum  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  will  her,  with  this  money,  to 
my  clerk,  Moses  Isaacs.  If  they  do  not  marry,  it  is  for- 
feited, and  reverts  to  my  daughter  Leah.  I  bequeath  to 
the  man  Murdoch  my  thanks  for  his  services  to  my  family. 
I  leave  to  Charles  Conrad  Murray,  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  by  way  of  restitution  for  injuries  sustained  by 
him  at  my  hands.  I  bequeath  to  my  dear  affectionate 
daughter  Leah,  for  her  faithful  care  of  me ;  and  because 
now,  as  I  am  about  to  yield  up  the  ghost,  I  feel  that 
every  act  and  motive  of  her  life  has  been  just  and  upright ; 
I  bequeath  to  her  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  my 
consent  for  her  to  marry  whomsoever  she  pleases  I  also 
will  to  her  this  house,  with  all  its  stories  and  compart- 
ments, including  store  rooms,  offices,  cells,  prisons,  etc. : 
and  lastly,  all  property  that  shall  remain  after  the  dis- 
bursing of  the  aforementioned  sums." 

He  reaches  out,  takes  the  paper  and  pen,  and  with  a 
steady  hand  affixes  his  signature.  Then  fell  back  on 
his  pillow,  and  closed  his  eyes.    The  will  was  attested. 


502 


T  IT  E     N  IGHT    W  ATCH. 


and  sealed.  Then  the  Jews  drop  off,  looking  sullen  and 
dissatisfied. 

Poor  old  Mordecai  Faggot  never  speaks  but  once  again. 
He  raises  his  head,  and  peers  curiously  around  the  room; 
then  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  two  candles  burning,  cries  out, 
"  Oh  !  oh  !  I  sail  be  ruin  !  I  sail  be  ruin.  Put  out  one 
of  dem  candle.  Oh  !  oh  !  T  sail  be  ruin  ;  "  and  with  this 
effort  of  expiring  nature,  he  breathed  his  last  in  the  arms 
of  his  daughter.  Truly.  "  the  ruling  passion  is  strong  in 
death.11 

Murdoch  knew  too  well  the  disposition  of  the  miserable 
horde  hid  about  in  the  Jews'  Quarter,  to  leave  the  place 
unguarded.  He  sets  a  strong  watch  in  that  room,  and 
men  were  also  stationed  about  the  premises.  The  funeral 
takes  place  in  a  large,  gloomy  old  room,  just  below  the 
miser's  den.  This  apartment  had  always  been  used  as  the 
secret  council  chamber. 

It  is  over;  and  the  dutiful  daughter  has  witnessed  the 
last  rites,  and  paid  the  last  tribute  of  respect  to  his 
memory. 

The  question  now  arises,  where  is  all  this  money  to  be 
found?  Mr.  Nathan  never  made  any  deposits.  He  had 
during  the  last  year  gathered  in  his  funds  with  heavy 
usury.  Since  which  time,  he  had  refused  to  give  out  any 
more  loans.  No  one  has  any  knowledge  of  his  business. 
He  never  had  a  friend  or  confident.  Then  where  is  this 
money?  None  can  answer;  at  least  no  one  does.  Con- 
jecture and  speculation  have  both  been  exhausted.  At 
last  it  settles  down  into  the  conviction  that  the  poor  old 
creature  had  carried  out  his  mischievous  and  malicious 
principles  of  fraud  and  treachery  even  in  death — this 
being  his  final  and  grand  hoax. 


THE    NIGHT    W  A  T  C H  . 


508 


CHAPTEE  XLV. 

"THE    HAPPY  FAMILY." 

'Hope  with  a  goodly  prospect  feeds  the  eye, 
Shows  from  a  rising  ground  possession  nigh/' 

"  What  deemed  they  now  of  the  future  or  the  past  ? 
The  present,  like  a  tyrant,  held  them  fast," 

Four  months  have  elapsed  since  the  exciting  events 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter.  We  hear  nothing  more  from 
the  Jews'  Quarter.  Dr.  Walter  Joeelyn  and  Emma  have 
called  to  see  Marianna.  It  is  well  for  the  latter  that  she 
is  innocent  and  self-satisfied,  as  well  as  absorbed  in  her 
own  prospect  of  happiness.  That  crimson  spot  on  the 
young  man's  cheek;  that  agitated  hand  and  tremulous 
voice,  reveal  a  tale  of  only  smothered  affection. 

He  again  insists  on  waiving  his  claims  as  a  legatee  to  the 
estate  of  John  Grlencoe.  But  Marianna  as  firmly  declines, 
when  Minny  and  Dr.  Brown  expostulated  with  her  on 
this  obduracy.  Seeing  that  it  is  a  source  of  grief  to 
Walter,  she  shakes  her  head  and  says:  "I  could  not  eat 
the  bread  purchased  with  that  man's  money.  ISTo  !  rather 
let  me  return  to  the  hovel  and  be  pinched,  and  almost 
starved,  as  I  was  then,  than  forced  to  rear  my  child  on 
his  means." 

Dr.  Brown  has  been  persuaded  to  take  possession  of 
Col.  Murray's  splendid  mansion.  So  they  all  live  there 
together  in  perfect  peace.  They  are  spoken  of  by  all  who 
visit  them  as  the  "happy  family."  It  is  generally  believed 
that  Marianna  has  inherited  an  immense  fortune.  Her 
bright,  beautiful,  and  cheerful  face  bears  them  out  in  this 


504  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

conclusion.  She  dresses  in  tasteful,  handsome  style; 
richly,  but  still  with  chaste  simplicity. 

The  improved  manner  of  living,  and  the  general  appear- 
ance of  the  good  little  "Dr.  Brown  and  family,  induces  the 
verdict  among  the  clever  ones,  that  he  also,  by  some  for- 
tuitous circumstance,  has  gotten  possession  of  that  oil 
which  makes  the  car  of  worldly  popularity  move  on  so 
nicely.  It  is  not  true.  The  Doctor  attends  to  his  profes- 
sional duties  as  unremittingly,  and  his  collecting,  as  closely 
as  ever.  Yet  he  is  more  charitable.  He  can  now  afford 
this  luxury  of  the  heart. 

Minny,  in  that  great  palace  of  a  house,  with  all  the 
appointments  and  surroundings  of  Southern  ease  and 
magnificence,  is  the  same  single-minded,  honest-hearted, 
cheerful-tempered  little  woman,  that  she  was  while  wait- 
ing on  a  customer  behind  the  little  counter  of  the  little 
toy-shop.  She  is  truly  the  light,  the  life,  and  the  joy  of 
all  beholders.  Now,  Mrs.  Calderwood  and  the  other  par- 
asitical hangers-on,  flock  to  see  her.  She  receives  them 
with  an  easy  graciousness  which  is  marvelous.  She  is 
not  elated.  She  feels  no  pride  or  exultation  about  any 
of  those  things  which  the  world  can  give  or  take  away. 
Her  peace  is  built  on  a  firmer  foundation  —  yea,  fixed  on 
the  "  rock  of  ages." 

Marianna  would  be  the  nucleus  in  the  gay,  fashionable 

world  in  the  capital  of  ,  did  she  consent  to  accept 

the  homage  of  these  summer  friends.  She  is  exceedingly 
beautiful,  refined,  elegant,  and  accomplished.  But  she 
turns  coldly  from  all.  demonstrations  of  the  kind  to  her 
little  home  circle,  and  giving  her  hand  to  Murray,  while 
she  encircles  her  child  and  grandmother  in  a  tender 
embrace,  looks  round  on  the  "  Happy  Family,"  and 
says  : 

"  This  is  my  world.  Nay,  I  fear  it  is  more;  surely  it  is 
heaven  on  earth  !  God  forgive  me,  if  I  sin  in  forgetting 
that  there  has  ever  been  sorrow  and  suffering  among  us ! 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


505 


There  is  now  but  one  draw-back.  Happy  are  they  who 
have  not  many." 

The  little  Clarence  —  gladly  would  his  friends  with- 
draw him  from  the  theater.  But  Mr.  Gooch  was  the 
"good  Samaritan,"  in  those  fearful  times  ;  and  he  has,  by 
his  generous,  gentlemanly  conduct,  taken  such  deep  hold 
on  the  hearts  of  the  family,  especially  the  child,  that  it 
seems  impossible  to  separate  themselves  from  him.  The 
dear,  grateful,  affectionate  boy,  weeps  and  pines  for  the 
presence  of  his  friend.  Seeing  that  he  is  truly  enamored 
of  the  profession,  they  are  at  length  induced  to  give  him 
up  to  his  benefactor.  His  friends  are  pained  by  this  ; 
yet  they,  like  all  others,  must  yield  at  last  to  the  force  of 
circumstances.  They  console  themselves  by  thinking 
that  it  may  be,  after  all,  the  boy's  true  vocation. 

Marian na  and  Murray  are  both  in  deep  mourning ;  at 
the  end  of  this  season,  they  are  to  be  married.  Then 
they  purpose  —  the  "happy  family" — to  forma  party 
and  make  a  visit  to  Minny's  native  city  of  Edinburg. 
Walter  and  Emma,  sweet  Mary  Green  and  her  chosen 
one,  and  a  few  other  friends,  will  be  of  the  number.  At 
the  end  of  this  mourning  season,  there  will  be  a  general 
jubilee.  It  is  also  the  time  that  Mr.  Gooch,  with  some  of 
his  cleverest  members  of  the  stage,  have  determined  to 
make  the  tour  of  Europe.  Thus  Marianna  may  not  be 
separated  from  her  son. 

Maj.  Lindsay  has  not  heard  from  his  daughter  since 
she  left  the  American  shore,  nor  has  he  written.  The 
Governor  and  he  are  still  as  jolly  boon-companions  as 
ever.  The  little  great  man,  was  married  soon  after  the 
elopement  of  his  lady  love  —  "the  gorgeous  Gertrude,"  as 
he  continues  to  call  her.  The  reader  has  already  seen 
that  the  sudden  disappearance  of  his  favorite,  made  no 
break  in  the  routine  of  his  pursuits  of  pleasure  or  busi- 
ness. 

To-day  he  and  the  major  have  called  to  pay  their 
'43 


50b  T  IT  E     N  I  OHT    W  A  TCH  , 

respects  to  the  ladies.  To  Minny's  inquiring  after  his 
daughter,  he  answers  gruffly,  "  I  know  little  or  nothing 
about  them,  madam — have  not  heard  since  they  went 
abroad.  Yet  I  feel  no  anxiety,  or  at  all  events,  no  uneasi- 
ness. She  has  fallen  into  good  hands;  and  thank  God! 
I  believe  she  has,  at  last,  met  with  a  master-spirit.  She 
was  a  perfect  autocrat  at  home.  I  don't  know  how  she 
will  stand  the  curb  bit  though;"  and  he  looked  down 
thoughtfully  while  he  added,  almost  sadly,  "  that  Josiah 
Gaines  is  the  very  Deil  in  obstinacy,  when  he  sets  his 
head  to  it.  Yet  I  should  not  mind  that ;  I  suppose  the 
fellow  always  loved  her,  with  all  her  faults ;  and  is  hon- 
orable withal.  But,  Governor,"  said  he,  trying  to  look 
up  cheerfully,  "  Josiah  knows  what  he's  about  in  the 
counting-room  (and  he  forced  a  little  laugh),  and  me- 
thinks  he  knows  how  to  count  for  himself  sometimes. 
Eh?  major." 

Gertrude  to  Minny. 

London,  June  10th,  18 — 
"  My  Dear  Madam — May  I  take  the  liberty  of  addressing 
a  few  lines  to  a  stranger  ?  I  am  driven  to  it  by  my  great 
anxiety  to  hear  from  home.  Not  one  line  have  I  received 
or  one  word  heard,  since  the  night  I  left.  Mrs.  Brown,  I 
am  very  unhappy;  and  from  what  I  heard  of  you  before 
I  left  home,  I  know  you  possess  a  good  heart  and  bound- 
less sympathy  for  the  wretched.  Do  not  think  this 
miserable  state  of  things  arises  from  disagreements  with 
my  husband.  Not  so,  I  assure  you.  I  would  not  venture 
on  such  an  experiment.  I  would  not  even  hazard  the 
expression  of  a  difference  of  opinion  on  any  subject  of 
importance.  And  if  I  did,  it  would  not  avail  me  any- 
thing. He  is  so  clever,  so  exceedingly  clever  and  smart ! 
Did  you  ever  know  my  husband,  madam?  I  do  believe 
he  is  the  smartest  and  cleverest  man  in  the  world. 

"  I  am  wretched,  because  Mr.  Gaines  thinks  proper  to 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


507 


lead  such  a  quiet,  retired  life.  It  does  not  suit  me.  You 
know  I  was  so  much  sought  at  home,  such  a  belle.  I  do 
not  say  this  boastingly,  but  rather  with  regret,  since  it  is 
now  all  forever  broken  up.  Oh  !  I  did  queen  it  over  the 
beaux  so  delightfully.  I  feel  assured  that  you  are  almost 
ready  to  weep  over  my  troubles  —  you,  who  are  so 
sympathetic.  Do  you  not  think  it  dreadful,  that  I  am 
compelled  to  lead  this  humdrum  life? 

"  Why,  madam,  would  you  believe  it?  I  am  here  the 
same  '  Gorgeous  Gertrude^  in  the  midst  of  gay,  dashing  gal- 
lants—  counts,  viscounts,  lords,  and  dukes — who  all  look 
as  if  they  admired  me.  In  fact,  their  eyes  declare  it 
every  moment.  Well,  would  you  believe  it?  that  Ae,  my 
husband  —  this  clever  one  —  has  never  left  my  side  long 
enough  to  give  them  an  opportunity  to  ratify  with  their 
tongues  what  their  eyes  so  openly  declare.  Oh  !  This  is 
torture !  and  I  sometimes  think  I  shall  get  to  hate  Gaines, 
if — if — I  —  I  (it  will  out)  was  not  afraid  of  him.  ISTow, 
I  have  admitted  to  you  what  I  would  not  to  anybody  else 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  I  would  not  have  Josiah  to 
know  it  for  a  million  of  dollars. 

"  There  is  still  another  annoyance.  I  have  a  great  many 
calls  from  some  of  the  first  gentlemen  in  the  world.  But, 
(could  you  believe  that  any  man  would  be  such  a  brute  ?) 
I  have  never  been  allowed  to  receive  one  of  them,  without 
that  everlasting  fixture  at  my  elbow.  I  am  so  outraged  by 
this  system  of  espionage,  that  I  hate  him,  and  feel  like  I 
could  kill  him  and  myself  too.  It  would  not  have  been  thus, 
had  I  married  Col.  Murray,  instead  of  my  father's  clerk. 

"  But  you  would  never  think,  that  this  calm,  dignified, 
self-possessed,  self-sustained,  and  maybe  sometimes  a  lit- 
tle bit  self-sufficient  American  gentleman,  and  Maj.  Lind- 
say's second  clerk,  Josiah  Gaines,  were  one  and  the  same. 
You  can  not  understand,  I  presume,  how  he  could  come 
to  London  and  glide  into  such  a  position  so  easily,  fresh 
from  the  counting  house  :  where  that  everlasting  appen- 


508  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

dage,  the  pen  over  the  ear,  was  the  only  adornment  of 
the  outside  of  that  clever  head  —  the  only  circumstance 
to  break  the  eternal  monotony  of  those  smooth,  precise, 
hateful,  flaxen  locks.  Sometimes  when  those  real  noble- 
men are  showing  such  deference  to  the  opinions  of  this 
New  World  banker,  I  am  almost  tempted  to  tell  them  of 
it.  But  then,  Mrs.  Brown,  there  must  always  have  been 
a  great  deal  more  in  the  inside  of  that  head  than  any  of 
us  ever  suspected ;  else  he  could  not  have  thus  taken  his 
place  at  once  among  the  great  folks.  He  seems  really  to 
be  as  much  at  home  here,  and  as  much  at  his  ease,  as  my 

Lord  W  ,  who  by  the  by,  I  must  tell  you  about. 

"  I  have  known  for  some  time,  by  the  expression  of  his 
fine  black  eyes  (Oh,  how  I  do  admire  black  eyes  and  black 
locks  now),  that  in  his  secret  soul  he  was  languishing  for 
me  ;  but  Josiah  has  never  given  him  an  opportunity  to  tell 
me  so.  Well,  Ann,  my  same  maid,  is  with  me  still.  She 
is  free,  of  course ;  but  no  matter,  Ann  came  into  my  room 
this  morning,  when  the  hateful  old  Josiah  was  tossing  up 
the  brat,  the  young  Josiah.  Did  you  know  we  had  a 
child?  This  was  most  unexpected,  as  well  as  unwelcome. 
I  never  premeditated  such  an  outrage  on  my  fine  form,  I 
assure  you.  And  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Brown,  I  can  scarcely 
breathe  while  I  write.  I  feel  so  much  shame,  rage,  and 
mortification  at  the  atrocity.  Don't  you  think  the  wretch 
makes  me  nurse  my  own  child  ?  Yes,  makes  it  suck  me. 
I  believe  that  is  what  the  plebeians  call  it.  Then  he  will 
sit  by  and  watch  the  process,  and  gloat  over  it  as  the  thing 
draws  draught  after  draught  from  my  bosom  ;  which  you 
know,  of  course,  must  inevitably  be  spoiled  (and  this  was 
the  joy  and  pride  of  my  life).  Ann  says  I  am  the  subject 
of  ridicule  with  all  the  abigails,  who  say  such  a  thing  is 
an  unheard-of  vulgarity  in  high  life.  He  must  know 
that  I  hate  him,  as  he  sits  by  toying  with  the  child  ;  ever 
and  anon  placing  its  little  old  hand  on  my  bare  breast. 
Then  I  can't  refrain  from  a  shudder,  and  Josiah  shouts 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


509 


out  in  a  great  laugh  and  repeats  it.  But  I  must  stand  it 
all ;  I  can  make  nothing  by  talking.  Oh  !  if  he  would 
only  quarrel  with  me,  it  would  help  me  some.  But  when- 
ever I  quarrel  with  him,  he  stands  quite  still,  folds  his 
arms,  and,  when  I  have  got  through,  smiles,  that  same 
dry,  quiet,  provoking,  American  sort  of  smile  (I  don't 
think  they  smile  so  in  high  life  abroad),  tips  his  hat  to  me 
and  leaves,  locking  the  door  after  him.  That  day  and  the 
the  next,  and  for  as  many  daj^s  as  I  am  wretched  (he  calls 
it  sullen),  my  meals  are  sent  up  to  me.  Then  I  am  not 
invited  to  attend  the  opera  or  any  place  of  amusement, 
until  I  am  forced  by  sheer  weariness  to  kiss  him,  and  ask 
his  pardon.  All  this  I  must  do  voluntarily ;  he  would 
not  make  the  least  advance  toward  a  reconciliation  to 
save  my  life.  Now,  madam,  what  do  you  think  I  get  in 
return  for  this  wondrous  condescension?  Nothing,  but 
one  of  those  aforesaid  smiles  and  a  cool  kiss  on  the  fore- 
head. Then  our  lives  fall  into  the  same  course  as  before ; 
which  is  so  smooth  and  tame,  because  of  its  perpetual 
smoothness. 

"  Saints  and  angels !  I  had  quite  forgotten  what  I  had 
set  out  to  say.  Ann  came  into  my  dressing  room  as  I 
said.  Josiah  was  there.  I  suppose  he  could  read  in  her 
face  that  she  had  some  secret  for  me.  (Oh  !  it  is  a  great 
misfortune  for  a  woman  to  have  too  clever  a  husband.) 

"  He  walked  right  up  to  her  and  said,  'Ann,  there  is  a 
vessel  to  leave  to-morrow  for  the  port  of  New  Orleans. 
Do  you  wish  to  return  to  the  United  States? ' 

" '  Lawsy  me !  No,  Mas'r  Josiah  ;  I  don't  want  to  leave 
Mis  Gutty.' 

£t '  Then  give  me  that  letter,  and  don't  open  your  mouth, 
or  you  go  on  board  in  ten  minutes.' 

"I  believe  she  was  about  to  obey  my  look  and  deny  it, 
but  he  fixed  his  eye  on  her,  and  she  handed  him  a  letter 
without  saying  a  word.  It  was  a  beautiful  pink,  embossed, 
perfumed  envelop.    He  read  it  all  through,  without  the 


510 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


least  emotion,  then  quietly  lighted  a  taper,  and  held  the 
letter  over  it.  But  seeming  suddenly  to  recollect  himself, 
he  put  it  into  his  pocket.  I  could  have  seen  him  con- 
sumed, and  felt,  myself,  as  if  I  should  ignite. 

"He  looked  at  me,  and  smiled  as  placidly  as  ever;  then 
walking  up  to  me,  folded  his  arms,  and  said :  1  !N"ow,  don't 
get  excited  over  it,  Gertrude.  I  am  convinced,  from 
under  the  man's  own  hand,  that  you  have  not  invited  this 
insult  by  word  or  deed  ;  bat  in  future  I  shall  require  you 
to  guard  your  eyes.' 

"  He  then  turned  to  the  nurse  who  held  the  child,  took 
the  babe  in  his  arms,  embraced  him  very  tenderly,  touched 
his  hat  to  me,  and  left  the  room,  calling  Ann  after  him. 
In  fifteen  minutes  more  she  was  on  board  of  that  vessel. 
I  never  saw  her  again.  A  new  maid  was  immediately 
installed  in  her  place. 

"  That  afternoon,  as  I  sat  moodily  alone,  watching  the 
big  drops  as  they  pattered  on  the  window,  and  mingling 
my  tears  with  the  rain  (in  imagination),  I  heard  a  con- 
fused noise  of  many  voices  and  trampling  of  feet.  Then 
the  door  flew  open,  and  my  wounded  husband  was  brought 
in  on  a  litter,  in  a  fainting  condition.    He  had  challenged 

Lord  W  ,  just  for  writing  me  a  letter.    I  do  not  think 

Col.  Murray  would  have  cared  if  I  had  gotten  one  every 
day.  After  all,  I  believe  it  is  the  easiest  and  safest  w^ay 
to  marry  a  man  like  him,  who  would  not  love  his  wife 
enough  to  make  him  care  what  she  said,  or  what  she 
might  be  tempted  to  do. 

u  The  ball  has  been  extracted,  and  I  think  he  will  get 
well.  I  believe  I  hope  he  may.  My  dear  Mrs.  Brown, 
strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  although  Josiah  keeps  me 
so  in  a  strait-jacket  all  the  time,  I  can't  help  but  respect 
him  greatly ;  and  sometimes  I  almost  admire  him.  I 
rather  think  I  quite  do,  since  he  has  been  laying  here  so 
patient  and  resigned  under  his  sufferings.  He  has  never 
once  upbraided  me,  or  even  by  innuendo,  alluded  to  the 


T  II  E    NIG  H  T    W  A  T  C  H 


611 


past.  So  sometimes,  in  spite  of  my  resolves,  I  tind  myself 
liking  him.  I  fear  I  shall  be  weak  enough  to  love  him 
even,  if  he  don't  quit  showing  off  such  sublime  traits  of 
character;  in  a  small  way,  you  know.  I  don't  wish  you 
to  think,  Mrs.  Brown,  that  he  has  become  a  hero  to  me, 
because  he  maimed  my  noble  lover  for  life,  and  got  shot 
himself.  Many  a  coward  has  done  as  much.  But  the 
marvel  is,  how  can  he  lie  here,  day  after  day,  without 
repining  —  scarce  so  much  as  groaning  —  and  never  once 
accusing,  or  quarreling  with  me.  You  must  admit, 
madam,  that  this  is  very  touching.  I  could  almost  weep 
when  I  look  at  him. 

"  Do  write  to  me.    I  should  very  much  like  to  be 

informed  of  a  few  things.    Poor  Gov  !    How  did  he 

stand  my  treatment  of  him  ?  I  felt  more  regret  at  deceiv- 
ing him  than  aught  else.  My  father  ever  loved  his  wine, 
quite  as  well  as  he  did  his  daughter.  I  knew  this,  and  it 
drove  me  to  many  a  reckless  act.  His  indifference,  Mrs. 
Murray's  counsel,  and  my  own  vanity,  made  me  what  I 
was  and  am.  How  long  after  that  premeditated  alarm  of 
fire,  was  it  before  my  soi  disant  lover,  Col.  Charles  Conrad 
Murray,  turned  up  again  ?  Apropos,  what  has  become 
of  that  pretty  milliner,  way  down  on  Market  street?  The 
brat,  young  Josiah,  is  squalling  ;  and  the  man,  old  Josiah, 
is  groaning ;  so  I  must  bid  you  adieu.  Of  course  you  will 
not  delay  your  response. 

1  Gertrude  Gaines." 


512 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

THE  JEWESS. 

"  Heart  on  her  lips,  and  soul  within  her  eyes. 
Soft  as  her  clime,  and  sunny  as  her  skies/' 

"  Her  overpowering  presence  made  you  feel, 
It  would  not  be  idolatry  to  kneel." 

Twelve  months  more  have  glided  by,  nothing  of  con- 
sequence occurring  in  the  happy  family  to  mar  its  har- 
mony. The  joint  preparations  for  the  marriage  and 
voyage,  are  progressing  easily  and  smoothly.  This  per- 
fect holiday  of  the  feelings,  has  been  enjoyed  to  its  full 
extent.  Marianna  is  growing  more  and  more  beautiful 
every  day.  Murray  is  almost  sublime  in  his  peculiar  style 
of  fine  looks.  Minny,  her  dear  Gabe,  and  the  little  Myra, 
are  happy;  then,  of  course,  pretty,  in  their  several  differ- 
ent ways.  They  have  planned  that  Lucy  May  and  little 
Jenny  Brown  shall  give  up  the  toy  shop,  and  become 
inmates  of  the  mansion,  in  order  to  watch  over  and  afford 
companionship  to  the  two  old  ladies.  Old  Mrs.  Glencoe 
is  still  hale,  cheerful,  and  happy  ;  but  the  old  grandam, 
Mrs.  Dun,  is  very  fragile. 

A  few  days  preceding  the  wedding  of  our  friends,  the 
following  note  is  received : 

"  Col.  Murray — Dear  Sir  : — I  am  ordered  by  one  in 
authority,  to  invite  you  and  all  your  household,  to  an 
entertainment  at  her  residence  to-morrow  evening.  But 
first,  there  is  business  to  transact.  Come  at  eight  o'clock 
to  the  store  of  Nathan  &  Co.,  in  the  Jews'  Quarter.  I 
will  meet  you  there,  and  conduct  you  to  the  presence 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


513 


of  the  hostess.  Fail  not  to  come.  It  is  of  vital  impor- 
tance to  many.  I  am  directed  to  say,  that  every  member 
of  your  domestic  circle  is  invited. 

Yours  very  respectfully,  John  Murdoch." 

This  note  excited  much  interest,  and  not  a  little  specu- 
lation, with  some  commotion,  in  that  quiet,  peaceful, 
household. 

"  Why,  how  is  this,  wife  ? "  says  the  little  Doctor, 
"  Murdoch  come  to  life  again  ?  It  is  now  a  year  since  we 
have  seen  or  heard  of  him.  During  that  long  interval, 
the  rich,  sonorous  voice  of  the  Night  Watch,  proclaim- 
ing that  great  lie,  *  All's  well,'  has  not  been  heard.  Has 
he,  think  you,  been  4  Sunning  his  heart  in  beauty's  eyes,' 
after  his  cold  sojourn  in  the  shades  of  night?" 

At  the  appointed  time,  they  were  en  route  to  that  same 
old  gloomy  court.  Murdoch  was  in  waiting,  and  led  them 
not  up  that  mysterious  spiral  stair-way,  from  the  blind 
alley,  but  a  new,  broad,  modern  stair-case,  to  that  marble 
paved  hall ;  thence  to  the  magnificent  saloon.  They  are 
invited  by  him  to  sit,  while  he  excuses  himself,  and  leaves 
the  room. 

In  a  few  moments,  Leah  comes  out,  leaning  on  his  arm, 
dressed  in  deep  mourning.  She  embraces  Marianna  and 
Minny  affectionately,  shakes  hands  with  the  gentlemen 
cordially  ;  nay,  turns  her  cheek  to  Murray  to  kiss.  Few 
words  are  passed  in  idle  conversation,  and  conventional 
compliment.  There  is  a  deep  shadow  resting  on  the  face 
of  the  beautiful  girl. 

"  My  friends,"  said  she,  u  you  all  knew  my  father,  and  he 
was  odious  to  you  for  many  things ;  but  he  was  my  parent, 
and  since  the  death  of  my  mother,  I  have  had  the  care  of 
him.  Low  and  groveling  as  old  Faggot,  the  Jew  peddler 
and  miser,  must  have  appeared  to  you  ;  yet  in  his  better 
existence,  and  under  his  true  name,  Levi  Nathan,  he  was 
sometimes  susceptible  of  generous  impulses,  and  did  per- 


514  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

form  good  actions.  But  alas  !  you  see  how  it  is,  the  crimes 
and  misdeeds  of  the  miscreant  Faggot  are  heralded 
abroad,  and  registered  in  your  hearts,  while  the  bene- 
factions of  the  clothing  merchant,  Levi  Nathan,  go  unre- 
corded. It  is  the  way  of  the  Christian  world ;  I  do  not 
blame  you." 

There  was  an  inexpressibly  touching  pathos  in  her 
voice  and  manner,  and  a  ravishing  grandeur  in  her  beauty, 
while  she  discanted  so  feelingly  on  the  characteristics  of 
her  parent.  She  had  ceased  speaking,  being  overcome 
by  her  emotions  ;  and  now,  as  she  resumed  the  subject, 
she  raised  those  large,  lustrous  eyes,  and  they  are  suffused 
w^ith  gentle  tears. 

"  I  have  called  you  together  this  evening,  my  friends, 
with  a  two-fold  purpose-— to  witness  two  rites,"  and  she 
blushed  again.  "  First,  by  the  aid  of  my  early  friend 
here,"  laying  her  hand  on  Murdoch's  arm,  "  I  shall  endea- 
vor to  carry  out  the  wishes,  and  obey  the  last  injunctions 
of  my  poor  father,  as  well  as  to  comply  with  his  written 
will.  It  was  his  wish,  his  dying  request,  that  one  whole 
year  should  elapse  before  there  should  be  any  steps  taken 
to  bring  to  light  the  treasures  so  long  and  so  wearily 
hoarded  together,  and  secreted  somewhere,  no  one  knew 
how-  or  in  what  place.  I  alone  was  advised  of  the  mys- 
terious hiding-place." 

She  now  led  the  way  to  the  room  so  often  described  in 
these  papers,  and  taking  from  her  bosom  a  silver  whis- 
tle, drew  from  it  a  shrill  note,  which  was  immediately 
answered  by  the  young  Jew,  Isaacs,  and  a  rather  pretty 
girl,  with  remarkably  smooth,  fair  skin,  and  short,  black 
hair.  When  she  met  the  gaze  of  Marianna,  she  colored, 
and  the  same  sinister,  vindictive  expression  gleamed 
from  her  eyes  and  revealed  the  secret. 

Marianna  was  so  much  surprised,  that  she  was  about  to 
utter  an  exclamation,  when  Leah  glided  by,  and  looking 
significantly  into  her  face,  whispered,  u  Not  a  word,  lady ; 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


515 


on  thy  life,  do  not  speak.  Ignorance  is  worth  more  than 
wisdom  within  these  walls.    Be  warned." 

Again  she  sounds  the  whistle,  and  four  grave,  genteel- 
looking  Jews  enter.  A  large  table  is  placed  in  the  center 
of  the  floor.  They  surround  it.  Leah  talks  to  them  for 
a  moment  in  their  own  tongue,  and  they  take  their  seats 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  table,  each  being  furnished  with 
a  small  blue  glass  bowl  of  w^ater.  Then  that  large,  old, 
iron-bound  trunk  is  dragged  forth  from  beneath  that  heap 
of  rubbish,  which  looks  as  if  it  had  been  accumulating 
from  the  first  moment  of  time. 

Leah  again  gives  the  sign,  and  those  iron  bands  are 
wTrenched  off  by  that  Yulcan  hand.  The  padlock  is 
removed  at  a  blow.  Aye!  our  friend,  the  Night  Watch, 
does  not  lack  strength  of  hand  or  head  when  occasion 
calls.  All  now  is  intense  expectation  and  curiosity.  Leah 
kneels,  the  more  for  convenience.  She  essays  to  open  the 
trunk,  but  is  overcome  by  her  feelings,  and  is  obliged  to 
turn  away  and  once  more  pay  the  tribute  of  grief  and 
shame  to  the  memory  of  the  father  and  the  miser. 

The  lid  is  raised  ;  but  who  can  describe  the  blank  dis- 
appointment which  ensues?  There  seems  to  be  only  a 
few  old  clothes,  pantaloons,  vests,  coats,  etc.,  all  very  care- 
fully folded.  The  girl  takes  them  out,  and  lays  them, 
with  a  feeling  of  awe  and  reverence,  on  the  floor.  Now 
there  is  nothing  left  but  the  empty  tray. 

She  touches  a  secret  spring,  and  one  compartment  flies 
open.  And  then  there  is  a  simultaneous  exclamation  of 
wonder.  Piles  of  gold  —  pieces  of  every  size,  from  the 
one  dollar  to  the  fifty — meet  their  eyes.  Murdoch  and 
the  young  Isaacs  hand  it  to  the  men  at  the  table,  who  on 
their  part  fall  to  counting,  without  a  word  being  spoken. 
When  the  gold  is  all  taken  out,  and  its  value  duly  estim- 
ated and  recorded,  she  touches  another  spring,  and  a  sec- 
ond partition  opens,  which  is  filled  with  bank  notes  and 
title  deeds.    They  go  on  with  the  same  process  ;  the  table 


516  THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 

is  piled  up.  Again  and  again,  hidden  recesses  are  opened 
by  Leah,  and  their  treasures  dislodged.  Then  those  old 
clothes  are  made  to  yield  up  their  secrets.  Every  pocket, 
and  facing,  and  hem  is  rife  with  the  precious  metal,  or  no 
less  precious  paper.  This  was  also  handed  over  to  the 
men  at  the  table. 

Leah  then  goes  to  that  mass  of  disgusting  rubbish,  and 
points  out  another  chest,  which  Murdoch  drags  to  the 
light ;  and  the  same  operation  of  counting  and  register- 
ing is  gone  through  with.  There  are  also  old  vessels  of 
household  use  filled  with  small  coin,  the  common  currency 
of  the  day.  Yet  this  poor  old  wretch  had  denied  him- 
self a  sufficient  quantity  of  the  proper  sustenance  of  life. 
Reader,  you  have  seen  him  in  his  various  characters.  I 
can  not  stop  for  commentaries  ;  though  I  know  they  should 
be  made,  "to  point  a  moral,  as  well  as  adorn  a  tale."  But 
all  this  has  been  done  by  higher  and  abler  predecessors. 
I  therefore  forbear  to  draw  this  draft  on  your  patience, 
but  rather  check  on  your  imagination. 

JSTow  this  immense  estate  is  duly  disposed  of  to  the  sev- 
eral legatees.  All  arrangements,  both  for  convenience 
and  security,  had  been  made  by  the  provident  Leah  and 
the  shrewd,  practical  Murdoch. 

It  is  finished;  the  last  will  and  testament  of  Faggot  the 
miser,  and  Nathan  the  Jew,  has  been  executed.  The 
guests  are  invited  back  to  the  saloon,  and  while  their  feel- 
ings seek  repose  after  those  exciting  scenes,  they  recline 
on  luxurious  sofas,  lounges,  etc.  They  are  lulled  by  the 
plaintive  notes  of  the  night  bird,  and  soothed  by  the 
refreshing  murmur  of  falling  waters  from  the  alabaster 
fountains.  Ail  within  those  orientally  gorgeous  rooms  is 
strange,  wild,  and  beautiful.  Sweet  music  floats  on  the 
perfumed  air,  steals  over  the  senses,  tranquilizing  and 
entrancing.  Now  it  is  nearer,  and  losing  its  vagueness, 
breathes  a  low  and  mournful  strain. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


517 


"  Oil !  that  strain  again  ;  it  had  a  dying  fall : 
And  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  south 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing  and  giving  odor/' 

It  is  a  lament,  a  requiem.  J^ow  it  swells  louder  and 
louder,  until  it  burst  on  the  rapt  ear  in  a  full  chord.  Pre- 
sently this  breaks  into  a  rich  chorus  of  human  voices. 
One  full,  clear,  but  melodious  voice  leads ;  while  the  con- 
cert of  singers  bring  in  the  refrain.  The  following  simple 
but  touching  lines  are  improvised  by  Leah  : 

"My  task  is  o'er:  Fve  done  my  best 
To  carry  out  thy  known  behest : 
The  wish  to  make  some  small  amend 
For  sorrows  which  thy  acts  did  send. 

Chorus  :    But  lie  in  peace,  and  take  thy  rest, 

Until  thou  wak'st  on  Abraham's  breast. 

"  The  world  despised  thee,  0  my  sire, 
Would  have  thee  cast  into  that  fire  — 
Where  wicked,  bad,  and  ruthless  men 
Writhe,  shriek,  and  curse ;  but  groan  amen. 
Chorus  :    But  lie  in  peace,  etc. 

"  But  we  thy  children,  know  that  thou 
Wast  not  all  bad ;  and  well  we  trow 
Of  many  a  deed  in  secret  done, 
Unseen  by  all  but  that  great  One. 
Chorus  :    But  lie  in  peace,  etc. 

»'  Peace  to  thy  shade,  deluded  one ; 
And  in  that  grave  where  thou  art  gone, 
Mayst  thou  in  quiet  take  thy  rest, 
Until  thou  wak'st  on  Abraham's  breast. 
Chorus  :    But  lie  in  peace,  etc." 

When  the  music  ceased,  then  succeeded  an  interval  of 
delicious  repose.  The  senses  are  soothed,  and  the  fancy 
is  reveling  in  Elysian  groves.  "  Surely,"  exclaimed  Mur- 
ray, "this  is  Paradise,  and  the  place  we  have  left  is 


518  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

Hades."  They  were  aroused  by  the  receding  of  the  oppo- 
site wall,  displaying  the  banquet-room.  I  shall  not  ven- 
ture on  a  description  of  this  magnificent  fete. 

A  party  dressed  in  festive  robes  of  pure  white,  advanced. 
A  lady,  adorned  simply  in  India  muslin  ;  her  long,  black 
hair  hanging  in  graceful  ringlets  to  her  waist,  adorned  by 
a  wreath  of  natural  orange  blossoms.  She  wears  no  other 
ornaments,  no  gems.  She  is  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  dark, 
handsome,  majestic,  real  "  Cceur-de-Leon"  looking  man, 
who  is  also  dressed  with  great  simplicity,  though  in  the 
finest  black  cloth.  They  advanced  to  the  center  of  the 
room,  and  take  their  station  under  the  gorgeous  chande- 
lier, which  sends  out  its  rays  from  an  hundred  wax  candles. 

Another  couple  follow  ;  but  they  are  in  marked  contrast 
to  the  first.  These  seem  to  have  aimed  to  rival  the  nobles 
of  the  "  Yale  of  Cashmere,"  in  regal  splendor  of  apparel. 
The  girl,  who  is  rather  small  and  slight,  is  dressed  in  a 
robe  of  fine  blond  lace,  wrought  all  over  with  silver  and 
pearls.  On  her  head  she  wears  a  tiara  of  diamond,  a 
necklace  to  suit,  pin,  ear-rings,  etc.  Her  fingers  are 
literally  weighed  down  with  jewels.  The  gentleman  is 
dressed  in  keeping.  They  come  from  another  door,  and 
like  the  first  couple,  take  their  place  in  the  center. 

From  another  sliding  panel  the  Eabbi  in  his  robes 
and  high  cap  comes,  followed  by  a  large  company  of  their 
own  people,  maids  matrons,  young  men  and  old,  youths 
and  children,  all  having  on  the  wedding  garments.  He 
raises  his  hand  aloft,  and  that  large  assembly  kneel.  A 
prayer  is  pronounced,  and  as  he  opened  the  book, they 
rise  to  their  feet,  all  save  the  two  couples,  who  remain 
on  their  knees.  The  ceremony  is  performed  according  to 
the  Jewish  rites. 

It  is  over,  and  the  high  priest  holds  out  his  hand  for 
them  to  kiss.  When  the  greetings  are  gotten  through 
with  among  themselves,  Leah  and  Murdoch  approach  our 
friends,  who  embrace  her  affectionately,  and  utter  heart- 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  519 

felt  congratulations  to  both.  The  other  pair  keep  aloof. 
Leah,  now  Mrs.  Murdoch,  whispers  a  few  words  to  Mur- 
ray ;  then  he  and  his  party  advance,  and  are  presented  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Isaacs.  After  which,  they  are  invited  into 
the  banquet.  Then  they  adjourn  to  the  saloon,  and  there 
converse  with  Leah  and  Murdoch  about  many  things, 
embracing  the  present,  past,  and  future.  The  other  couple 
come  not  near,  but  mingle  with  their  own  people,  and 
enjoy  themselves  in  their  own  way,  according  to  their 
peculiar  usages. 

The  friends  take  an  affectionate  leave  of  Leah  and 
Murdoch  ;  after  pressing  them  to  make  a  visit,  Minny 
and  her  dear  Gabe,  propose  an  early  evening,  or  a  day  ; 
but  Murdoch  refers  them  to  his  wife. 

She  shakes  her  head  somewhat  sadly.  "  Dear  friend, 
we  have  many  duties  yet  to  perform ;  thou  wilt  excuse 
us."  To  the  entreaty  of  Marianna  and  Murray,  she 
replies,  laying  her  soft  little  hand  on  his  arm  :  "  If  the 
time  should  ever  come,  when  I  can  do  thee  a  service,  then 
thou  wilt  not  have  to  use  persuasion,  and  shalt  not  find 
me  backward.    Till  then  I  pray  thee  hold  us  excused." 

So  they  are  forced  to  leave  without  a  promise  of  further 
communication. 


520 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE  CONCLUSION. 

*'  Oh  !  married  love !  each  heart  shall  own, 

When  two  congenial  souls  unite, 
Thy  golden  chains  inlaid  with  down, 

Thy  lamp  with  heaven's  own  splendor  bright." 

44  Then  come  the  wild  weather — come  sleet  or  come  snow, 
We  will  stand  by  each  other,  however  it  blow ; 

Oppression  and  sickness,  and  sorrow  and  pain, 
Shall  be  to  our  true  love  as  links  to  the  chain." 

A  happy  assemblage  of  ten  or  a  dozen  persons,  are 
grouped  about  the  cabin  of  a  noble  vessel,  destined,  in  a 
short  time,  to  plow  the  Atlantic  ocean.  The  hour,  toward 
the  decline  of  day,  "  When  evening  draws  her  crimson 
curtains  on."  Ave  Maria  !  blessed  be  that  hour.  The 
sun  has  lost  his  rage,  and  in  his  downward  course,  sends 
only  animating  warmth,  and  vital  luster.  The  sails  are 
napping  lazily  in  this  soft,  seductive,  vesper  breeze  ;  all  is 
in  a  state  of  readiness,  but  they  await  the  propitious 
breath  of  heaven  to  waft  them  on  their  way.  What  a 
delicious,  enchanting  hour  it  is  without  and  within  that 
ship's  cabin.    Is  it  not  blessed  ? 

At  a  table,  in  the  center  of  a  long  narrow  floor,  are 
seated  four  young  persons,  engaged  in  some  innocent 
game  of  chance  ;  they  make  the  w^alls  ring  with  their 
hilarious  mirth.  Our  special  favorite  and  friend,  Doctor 
Walter  Jocelyn,  has  for  the  nonce,  exchanged  his  pretty 
bride  Emma,  for  the  no  less  interesting  one  of  Mr.  Miles 
(our  own  sweet  Mary  Green).  They  are  partners  at  some 
mimic  game  of  checkered  life. 


i 


THE     NIGHT  WATCH. 


521 


At  the  far  end  of  the  room,  another  couple  are  stand- 
ing apart,  fondly  watching  two  beautiful  children,  as  they 
ever  and  anon  bound  lightly  into  the  lap  of  a  fine-look- 
ing, rather  stout,  middle  aged  negress.  She  puts  an  arm 
around  each,  while  they  kiss  her  tawny  cheeks  and  lips, 
and  pat  her  face  and  neck  caressingly;  then  the  children 
kiss  each  other. 

"O  Aunt  Molly!"  said  the  little  Clarence,  "I  am  so 
glad  to  see  you,  and  I  do  love  you  so  dearly.  I  have  so 
often  heard  poor  mamma  and  grandma  talk  and  weep  over 
the  good  and  bad  times  they  used  to  see  together  with 
you.  They  thought  I  was  asleep,  but  I  noted  it  all  down  ; 
because  something  whispered  to  me  that  I  should  live  to 
see  the  good  creature  myself,  and  so  you  see  I  have. 
Mamma  used  to  mourn  and  lament  so,  because  she  could 
not  have  you  to  nurse  me,  too  :  and  now  think  of  it,  the 
good  God  has  sent  you  back  to  us,  and  you  have  got  to 
raise  me,  when  Mr.  Gooch  is  not  raising  me,  and  my  lit 
tie  cousin,  or  rather  sister  Genevieve.  Yevy,  you  must 
love  Aunt  Molly  with  all  your  might.  It  would  be  a 
great  stn,  child,  not  to  do  so,  and  call  her  mammy,  as  I 
shall.  And  you  see,  little  one,  I  am  older  than  you.  'ISTo, 
I  am  not,  but  I  ought  to  be,  w^hich  is  the  same  thing ; 
therefore  you  must  mind  all  I  say  to  you  ;  will  you  not, 
dear  little  Yevy?"  and  he  kissed  her  again. 

u  K~ow,  mammy,  you  must  tell  us  how  you  got  awray 
from  them  overseers  and  all?  Aunt  Molly,  they  didn't 
dare  to  use  you  ill,  did  they?  "  And  the  boy  looks  defi- 
antly and  menacingly  into  space,  as  he  clenched  his  lit- 
tle fist, 

"  Oh  never  mind  all  that,  honey,  what's  done  is  done, 
and  thar's  no  undoing  it.  Bless  God  !  child,  I  run'd  away. 
I  no  sooner  hear  the  news  that  Miss  Pet  wras  'live,  had 
come  up  to  life  —  for  she  was  once  dead  and  buried,  that's 
sartain  as  the  sparks  fly  downward  —  I  say,  I  no  sooner 
git  this  information  than  old  Molly  Wise  sets  her  wits  to 
>.  44 


522  THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 

work  to  circumvention  'em.  I  didn't  know  I  should  find  the 
dear  critter  in  such  a  good  quarters.  I  did  'spect  to  find 
her  subluged  in  all  sorts  of  sorrows,  like  as  theretofore. 
But,  bless  God  !  my  poor,  dear,  darling  pet  lamb  done  got 
to  the  right  fold,  in  the  true  and  proper  sheeps-cote  at 
last ;  and  now  this  old  nigger  is  jes  gwine  to  follow  you 
all  to  the  end  of  the  yarth.  Yes  indeed,  life  and  death, 
and  principalities,  and  powers,  is  never  gwine  to  separate 
me  from  her  agin." 

Just  then  a  beautiful,  sandy-haired  child  pulled  away 
from*  its  pretty  little  dot  of  a  mother,  who  was  sitting 
near,  contemplating  the  merry  trio,  and  toddling  toward 
the  good  old  nurse,  held  out  her  little  arms,  imploring  to  * 
be  taken  up. 

As  the  affectionate  creature  stooped  to  raise  her,  she 
says,  u  Bless  God  !  honey,  who  child  this  ?  I  jes  b'lieve 
this  town  is  full  of  darlin'  pretty  children.  Who  is  it, 
honey  Clarry  ?  " 

Why,  mammy,  that  is  my  little  wife.  In  a  few  years 
more,  I  am  going  to  marry  her ;  and  now  I  think  of  it, 
you  must  raise  her  for  me  too,  just  like  you  did  mamma. 
I  want  you  to  make  her  as  much  like  my  own  and  her 
own  mother  as  ever  you  can." 

Marianna  is  hanging  on  the  arm  of  her  husband.  She 
looks  up  in  his  face  with  a  look  of  ineffable  love,  as  she 
murmurs,  "  0  Conrad  !  my  great,  my  good,  my  adored 
husband!  Can  it  last  ?•  Can  such  entire,  such  complete 
happiness  last  ?  I  am  alarmed  at  my  fullness  of  joy.  I 
tremble,  I  almost  fear  to  breathe,  lest  it  shall  be  swept 
away.  Blame  me  not,  dear  friend,  the  past  has,  you 
know,  been  so  fearful."  He  drew  her  nearer  to  him,  and 
replied  by  repeating  those  felicitous  lines  : 

"  An  hour  like  this  is  worth  a  thousand  passed 
In  pomp  or  ease  ;  'tis  present  to  the  last. 
Years  glide  by  untold  —  'tis  still  the  same, 
As  fresh,  as  fair  as  on  the  day  it  came." 


T  H  E    NIGH  T    VV  A  TOH. 


523 


Minny  and  Doctor  Brown  now  join  our  wedded  lovers, 
and  seeing  a  drop  force  its  way  from  under  those  beauti- 
ful lids,  she  exclaims,  in  affected  amazement,  "  Aweel, 
aweel,  Myra  weeping !  I  wad  na  hae  thought  it.  See, 
dear  Gabe,  the  puir  thing  is  so  used  to  tears,  that  she 
must  e'en  weep  because  there  is  nae  mair  cause  for  sor- 
row ;  greeting  because  she  is  happy.    Aweel,  aweel." 

"  Well,"  said  Gabriel,  laughing,  "  I  had  thought  that 
tall,  grand,  dark-looking  youth  there  by  her  side  would 
wipe  all  tears  from  her  eyes.  How  is  it,  sir  ?  Does  your 
love  cool  by  possession  so  soon  ?  Come,  come,  a  truce 
with  all  glamouring." 

"  Ah  !  niver  fash,  niver  fash,  as  Mrs.  Brown  says;  you 
just  look  to  your  own  eyes,  friend  Gabriel,"  said  Murray. 
"All's  well  here." 

"  Aweel,  Mrs.  Murray,  I  never  did,  as  ye  know,  reply 
to  that  letter  I  received  from  Mrs.  Josiah  Gaines,  until 
to-day.  Here  it  is  ;  if  ye  or  the  colonel  wad  like  to  add 
a  word  by  way  o'  postcript,  ye  ken  ye  can  do  sae  now." 
She  hands  them  the  letter,  which  Marianna  reads  aloud. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Josiah  Gaines  —  I  trust  ye  will  pardon 
this  seeming  neglect.  I  hope  ye  can  do  sae  freely,  being 
as  ye  are  now  at  the  head  o'  the  family,  and  also  a  mither ; 
which  duties  ye  must  ken  are  very  engrossing.  And  now, 
madam,  before  I  ramble  on  from  the  point  o'  the  subject, 
and  may  thereby  forget  it,  let  me  tell  you  that  you  hae  my 
cordial  sympathy,  as  ye  did  claim  in  your  letter,  but  not 
in  the  way  ye  expect.  I  sympathize  with  ye  because  ye 
are  amang  strangers ;  but  I  pity  ye,  and  blame  ye  baith, 
at  the  same  time,  that  ye  should  thus  shut  your  een  to 
your  am  blessed  good  fortune.  I  tak'  it,  ye  hae  got  just 
the  very  husband  which  God  intended  for  you.  And  I 
can't  help  but  think,  that  he  is  the  very  man  to  suit  your 
case.  From  what  ye  tell  me,  I  think  it  likely,  with  time, 
he  will  bring  a'  the  little  crooks  and  cranks  in  your 


524 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH. 


temper  out  straight.  And  I  must  further  remark,  Mrs. 
Gaines,  that  I  am  filled  with  admiration  at  his  calm,  dig- 
nified demeanor,  as  ye  describe  it. 

u  I  shall  not  presume  to  offer  ye  any  advice,  well  know- 
ing that  ye  wad  na  tak'  it;  but  just  let  a  very  happy  little 
wife  whisper  something  in  yer  lugs — If  ye  wad  be  happy 
and  respected,  ye  maun  gie  up  all  gallavanting  and  seek 
yer  comforts  and  enjoyments  at  hame,  in  the  heart  o'  yer 
ain  gude  man,  and  in  the  bosom  o'  yer  ain  family — gie 
over  all  fooling  and  flirting. 

"  Ye  ask  to  be  informed  of  the  goings  on  here  since  ye 
left.  I  have  na  got  time  to  enter  into  lang  details.  But 
to  begin  at  the  beginning.  Your  father  seems  to  enjoy  his 
ain  good  health  and  spirits.  He  lives  at  the  same  place 
and  in  the  same  way  ;  has  the  Governor  and  a  few  friends 
to  eat  his  gude  dinners,  and  drink  his  fine  wines  every 
Sunday  as  usual.  The  little  Governor  was  married  soon 
after  you  left.  Na  doubt  he  missed  you,  as  ye  say  ye 
regretted  him  ;  but  he  did  na  go  cast  down  about  it ;  but 
like  a  wise  man,  cured  the  old  luve  wi'  the  new.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Calderwood  appear  to  be  somewhat  under  the  ban 
of  that  fickle  goddess,  Fortune,  about  this  present  writ- 
ing. She  is,  and  has  been,  for  some  time,  ill  wi'  a  bad 
cough,  caught  in  one  o'  her  many  tramps  through  the 
town  alang  with  Miss  Nancy  Jones,  trying  to  hear  all 
that  £  they  do  say'  Jones  is  now  a  fixture  in  the  house,  as 
nurse  and  companion,  which  wad  be  purgatory  to  me. 
They  are  left  pretty  much  alone  to  feed  on  that  aliment, 
gathered  at  such  pains.  Mr.  Calderwood  is  confined  to 
his  easy -chair,  flannel  gown,  and  slippers,  wi'  chronic 
gout.  This,  I  am  told,  sits  most  uneasily  on  the  dash- 
ing beau  and  polished  roue\  Miss  Emma  and  her  friend, 
Miss  Mary  Green,  were  both  married  yesterday.  Col. 
Murray,  salamander-like,  escaped  and  came  to  light  as  ye 
did  predict,  in  due  time  —  about  the  hour  that  his  mother 
died.    He  was  married  also  yesterday,  wi'  the  rest  o' 


THE    NIGHT    WATCH.  525 

them;  all  in  St.  Paul's  church,  by  the  good  Dr.  Mercer, 
and  to  the  very  lady  ye  did  inquire  about  —  the  beauti- 
ful milliner,  away  down  on  Market  street.  He  has  come 
into  possession  of  an  immense  fortune.  Murdoch,  that 
dark  and  handsome  Night  Watch  —  that  Black  Knight  — 
is  also  married. 

"  I  think  there  is  nothing  else  that  ye  asked  me  about. 
In  half  an  hour  we  shall  sail  for  my  ain  native  city  of 
Edinburg.  Canna'  ye  come  there  to  see  us?  All  the 
new  married  folks  are  of  the  party,  and  na  doubt  every 
one  o'  them,  as  well  as  my  ain  sel,  wad  be  glad  to  meet 
ye  over  seas.  Do  meet  us  in  Scotland.  Present  my 
regards  to  your  gude  man,  Mr.  Gaines. 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"Minny  Brown." 

Mr.  Gooch  now  coming  into  the  cabin,  joins  them,  and 
while  they  stand  there,  in  mute  happiness  and  rapt 
admiration  of  each  other,  and  everything  else  in  God's 
beautiful  world,  hoping  and  looking  forward  to  many 
more  days  of  felicity  on  this  His  footstool,  and  feeling 
that  faith  in  their  hearts  which  reaches  beyond  the  vale, 
they  resign  themselves  to  His  care  and  guidance,  no 
longer,  for  a  moment,  doubting  Providence. 

They  are  recalled  from  their  soarings  by  the  word  of 
command  from  aloft,  spoken  through  the  captain's  trum- 
pet to  "weigh  anchor,"  and  in  a  short  time  after,  the  good 
ship  is  scudding  before  the  evening  gale. 

"  Merrily,  merrily  goes  the  bark, 

On  a  breeze  from  the  northward  free ; 
So  shoots  through  the  morning  sky  the  lark, 
Or  the  swan  the  summer  sea." 


THE  END. 


1  Dec.  H 


